Temporal Locum

by Wendie Nordgren

  The donkey flicked a long ear at her and showed her its big teeth.

  “I don’t have time for this shit. Damn it.”

  Blinking black lashes at her, the donkey went back to its mindless munching.

  Twisting her own feed bag around, Bym dug out a dried apple slice and contemplated her chances of survival while chewing. Light streamed into the barn which would make searching it much easier. Bym clomped her way into the tack room. She found a knife with a leather handle and what she assumed was a flint rock. If anything else had once been inside, it was gone now, along with the barn animals. She assumed the farmer had been killed in a fight, his home had been robbed and burned, and his animals had been stolen. If any of them had escaped, would they return?

  “I should leave a note saying I took this stuff.”

  Quickly, she realized there was no way for her to do so. Anyway, what if the man who’d been killed and eaten had been the farm’s only occupant? Finding her soiled, tattered, and discarded clothing, she folded everything, put it all in as neat a pile as possible, and placed her once beautiful gold strappy heels on top. The articles of clothing had been of importance to her for some reason, but she could no longer recall why. She’d leave the things here as an unfair trade.

  Bym stiffened when a large, warm whiskered something touched her neck. Jerking around, she raised her hands to protect herself but only found the donkey. It lifted its lips away from its teeth and made a noise which sounded a lot like laughter to her ears. It moved a long leg with a hoof on the end a step closer. Bym took a step back.

  Hih-hih-hu. It snorted and took another step closer, sniffing at her feed bag.

  “Oh, I see. You want me to share. Right? I’ll make you a deal. Take me to a city or town, someplace where I can get help, and I’ll share with you. Okay, girl?” Bym pulled out a dried apple slice and almost lost a finger to her new best friend. She dropped the treat just in time. Her hands were sore enough with rope burns and didn’t need any more injuries. While the donkey rummaged for it in the faint dusting of hay on the tack room floor, Bym reached out a tentative hand and touched the donkey’s bristle-like mane. She was encouraged when it didn’t bite her. Soon, she was scratching it behind its ears and feeding it apple bits from her flattened palm. “Will you take me to town? Please? It’s not safe here.”

  The donkey made a snuffling sound which she interpreted as acquiescence.

  Tilting her head to the side, Bym asked, “Um. How do I do this?”

  The donkey blinked long lashes at her and looked bored.

  Bym left the room. The donkey followed. Drinking the last of her water, she turned the bucket upside-down and put it on the ground beside her noble steed. “Okay. Hold still. Okay? How do I hold onto you?” With a gentle touch on the animal’s mane, she put her left foot on the bucket and boosted herself up and onto its back. Unnerved by the experience, Bym laid her chest against the donkey and put her arms around its neck.

  “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  The donkey didn’t acknowledge her comment.

  “Um. Giddy up?” Bym felt a moment of panic. Without transportation, how far would she get before nightfall? Would the monsters come back? Could they climb? Would she be safe if she stayed in the barn? She didn’t want to find out. “Go. Move.” She moved a hand and gave it a tap on its neck. “Move your lazy ass.” Nothing happened. “Damn it, asshole! Fucking go!”

  The donkey started clomping its way through the back door.

  “Good girl!” Bym patted the donkey’s neck and gave her neck a gentle squeeze.

  The donkey sped up significantly. Bym held on with her arms and thighs but kept her eyes squeezed shut. She’d never ridden a donkey or a horse by herself before and didn’t want to fall off. After a while, she grew accustomed to the donkey’s movements and cracked open one of her eyes. Flat land was all around them. They were travelling across a harvested field. The barn and smoking remains of the cabin were barely visible. The wide-open space all around them put her more at ease. She feared what lurked within the distant forest and had no desire to enter it. Thankfully, the donkey seemed to share her feelings. From the field, the donkey crossed what Bym thought might be an irrigation ditch. Then, she climbed up to a dirt cart path. Hope sprang up within Bym. Once her hooves were firmly upon it, she picked up speed. Not knowing what else to do, Bym hung on for her life.

  The farmer’s fields were behind them. The donkey slowed its pace to an even trot, so Bym decided to be brave and pushed herself up with her sore arms to a sitting position. The donkey’s back was wide enough that she thought she’d be alright and not fall off. Bym looked at her hands. They were a mess. Her palms were raw with rope burns from pulling herself out of the well. Her entire body was a mass of aches and pains. If not for the donkey giving her a ride, she didn’t know what she would have done.

  To either side of the cart path, the grass had grown as tall as her donkey’s ears. She smiled. It was a peaceful, pastoral setting. Then, she thought of the monsters and their terrifying appearances. They could hide in the grass. As if sensing her fear, the donkey lifted her head and sniffed at the air. She didn’t seem concerned, so Bym calmed down. Her scalp itched, distracting her from her thoughts. Reaching up, Bym found a piece of hay. Aside from that, her hair was full of hairpins. Carefully, she started removing them and dropping them into the feed bag she had slung over her head and under her arm. It wasn’t stylish for a crossbody bag, but it would have to do. She removed the ponytail holder and slipped it over her wrist. Using sore, raw fingers, she combed through the tangles before pulling it up into an extremely messy bun.

  Throughout the morning and afternoon, the donkey kept to her steady pace. The overgrown road along which they travelled was nothing more than a cleared trail with wheel ruts in the dirt. It did tell her one thing. Somewhere out there, there were more people. The donkey veered off the road to the left and through the tall grass. It forced Bym to drop her chest to its neck and hold on or else risk falling off.

  “What are you doing? Where are you going? Are we hiding?”

  The donkey didn’t answer.

  The land did.

  She heard it before she saw it. Water. A small, clear stream ran over a rocky bed, splashing and gurgling along its way. It made Bym all too aware of the aching dryness of her throat. Donkey lowered her head to drink and almost sent Bym tumbling head first into the stream. Bracing her hands on the animal, she swung her right leg behind her, laid on her stomach sideways, and slid to the ground.

  “Oh, ouch. Alright, that hurts.” Bym rubbed at her sore thighs and walked like a bow-legged cowboy to the stream. Lying on her stomach, she reached out over the bank and down into the cold water. It stung her palms, but the pain didn’t stop her from drinking a dozen handfuls. She got to her feet and moved away to squat behind a bush. She’d started thinking about rinsing herself off in the cold stream when she heard the donkey starting to clunk-clop away. Hurrying to finish, she stood, held up her pants, and ran after her ride. “Hey! Wait! Don’t leave me!”

  Ignoring her, the donkey kept moving.

  Narrowing her eyes, Bym slowed to a walk. With the current condition of her blistered feet, even protected by the thick woolen socks, she couldn’t catch up. Instead, she pulled a piece of jerky from her bag and ate it. As soon as she started eating a piece of dried fruit, the donkey’s ears perked up, and she turned around and trotted back.

  “Oh, now I exist?” She held some fruit out on her palm. Donkey took it and was placated enough for Bym to jump up and haul her body onto her back.

  Did Donkey wait for Bym to sit astride before she started a refreshed jog along the road? Of course not. During her struggle to throw her leg over Donkey’s back and sit up, Bym accidentally bit her tongue hard enough to make her eyes water. Eventually, she managed to get herself situated.

  After a few hours, the sun started to set far earlier than Bym had expected. Donkey hadn’t been expecting it either. The waning light frighte
ned the animal. She picked up her pace significantly which forced Bym to hold onto her neck. Over the clomping of hooves, Bym thought she heard something. Then, without warning, Donkey left the road for a divergent path. The sudden turn had Bym, whose thighs were screaming with soreness, falling off and landing on her side in the tall grass.

  “Come back!” she yelled after managing to catch her breath.

  Slowly, she got up and trudged along in the direction she thought the donkey had gone. Then, she heard sounds of life. The surge of hope she felt turned into alarm. She could hear the fear of people in what sounded like a large group. The sounds drew her cautiously forward. She could hear people yelling, children screaming, and dogs barking. Fearful the monsters could be ahead, Bym left the path and hid in the bushes and trees off to its side. She crept closer. Through the cover of leaves and branches, she saw a farm, much like the one in which she’d sought shelter. The traitorous donkey had run right into the thick of a makeshift camp where she sidled up to a few other donkeys that were tied together.

  On a wide covered porch, an older man and his wife, farmers by the look of them, held each other and watched. Bym saw soldiers. They wore red cloaks and rode horses. Working together, they herded livestock. Since Donkey seemed familiar with some of the animals, she assumed they might have come from the same farm. Bym strained to hear over the commotion. The soldiers, numbering around twenty, were armed with swords and spears. Bym remembered all too well the spear with which the man had been killed before the monsters had gotten to him. She doubted that she’d ever be able to forget. These soldiers must have been the ones who had killed him, burned his house, and stolen his animals. She feared they meant to do the same to this couple.

  “Look what we have here!” a soldier yelled.

  Fearing she’d been spotted, Bym crouched down.

  He slid a rope over Donkey’s neck. “Another good animal to help in our cause.” He tossed the end of the rope to another soldier. Inspecting them as closely as she dared, she saw that their uniforms were all the same. They wore belted, long red loincloths over loose brown pants, boots, and leather armor over white shirts. Leather gauntlets covered their wrists. “We thank you for your hospitality. Not all of the folk in these lands have been as cooperative.” The soldier’s words boomed over the fields.

  Some of his men laughed and mounted their large brown horses. Others helped young women into a horse-drawn wagon. The women had long hair, didn’t wear make-up, and wore long dresses whose tops they covered with knitted shawls. The horses pranced as the men moved into position around the wagon. It was more like a cage on wheels, and within it she could see the young women with either tear-streaked frightened faces or stoic expressions. They appeared to range in age from twelve to twenty. Bym crouched down lower to hide. The lecherous soldiers were stealing women, the dirty bastards. Had the murdered farmer died while trying to save his wife or daughter?

  “Stay within your walls once the sun sets,” the soldier in charge ordered the farmer.

  The farmer released his wife, held his hands up, and tilted his face to the sky. “May Aurora bless you and guide you in your duty.”

  With a cocky grin, the soldier said, “Perhaps, she already has. Men, move out!”

  Keeping their female prisoners surrounded, the soldiers turned and rode along the path she’d just walked. Bym made herself as small as possible. Desperately, she watched as Donkey was led away with several other animals. Without her, Bym didn’t know how she’d get away from this farm and to the safety of a city. The farmer and his wife were obviously religious fanatics or members of whatever cult to which the soldiers belonged. The plain, old-fashioned clothing being worn supported her hypothesis. She had crouched down in such a way as to make her thigh burn where one of the monsters had clawed her, but she dared not move. Her injury would prevent her from making good time on foot.

  Whinnies and stomping hooves had her peering out through her hiding place in the bushes to learn what the commotion was about. Donkey had sat down amidst all of the other donkeys, horses, and cows. She began a horrendous ruckus of braying which had the cows mooing their heads off. The animals around her started jerking at their leads. Then, Donkey fell over on her side, taking the animals that were tied to her down in the process.

  A soldier yelled, “If it’s sick, leave it. We need to be at Fire Pass by nightfall.”

  The rope was slipped from Donkey’s neck. She laid on her side, braying so pathetically that Bym had to force herself not to leave her place of hiding to comfort the poor creature. She feared Donkey was dying.

  “Go inside and stay there,” the farmer told his wife.

  Her obedience was immediate which angered Bym. Apparently, wherever she was, women weren’t treated with equality. Just let someone try to tell her what to do. It’d be the last time. From her hiding spot, she watched as the farmer strode across the trampled ground and got Donkey to her feet. She swayed as if exhausted. Guilt for the poor animal assailed Bym. She’d worn the poor thing out. Donkey kept her head low as the farmer led her into a barn. Being afraid the farmer would turn her over to the lecherous soldiers, Bym remained hidden. She was glad she did. The farmer had two sons. She wouldn’t have been able to run from all three of them, not with her leg aching as it did. Settling back down, she waited.

  Daylight fled.

  Bym watched as the farmer and his sons drove their cows and sheep into enclosures for the night. After their work was done, the three of them walked over to a well where they washed up.

  “I want you boys sleeping with sharpened scythes at the ready,” he said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  They went inside of their log cabin. The smell of cooked meat and vegetables wafted out to her. Forlornly, she took out a piece of dried meat and ate it. “I’ll wait until they’re asleep. Then, I’ll check on Donkey. She’ll be safer here. I can’t take her if she’s hurt.” Bym felt a need to hug her only friend goodbye before taking her chances alone. Her thirst had her eying the well.

  Sounds from within the cabin had quieted. Deciding it was safe, she rose into a crouch from behind the bush, but then the cabin door opened. The farmer’s sons stepped out onto the porch and sat on benches. She couldn’t see but could hear the sounds of metal scraping against stone.

  “Do you think they’ll come tonight?” a hesitant voice asked.

  “If they do, we’ll be ready. I heard the soldiers telling Pa that a goblin head is worth a gold coin.”

  “You’ll need all of the coins you can get to go after Abigail if she’s not the chosen one.”

  Angrily, the older male said, “She’s not. I’d know it if she was. She would, too.”

  “Are you angry the Order of Solis took her?”

  “No, it’s a great honor for Abby and all of the females of our generation.”

  “Are you sure about that, brother? We’ve all heard the stories. Centuries ago, when the Solis searched the land for the last Temporal Locum, not all of the initiates survived the testing.”

  The sounds of metal scraping against stone stopped. “I love Abby. I’ve always loved her, and I don’t want to consider what it’d be like trying to live without her. What if she doesn’t come back? They killed her Pa. He didn’t want them to take her. It made him a traitor in their eyes and in Pa’s. Still, come morning, we’re going to bury him. He’ll be next to her Ma.”

  There was a long silence, broken only by the scraping sounds which had resumed.

  Then, the younger of the two said, “War is coming. There’s always a war between us and the Umbra when the Temporal Locum is lost.”

  “What are you going on about?”

  “I want to join them.”

  “Well, you aren’t going to. Pa already told you no.”

  “We need to fight for our people and our way of life,” he replied in a passionate whisper.

  “What we do here is just as important. If it wasn’t for the work we do, we wouldn’t have been able to supply the soldiers with
the food and supplies they needed. What do you think happens if they don’t find the Time Holder before the Umbra do? Do you think there will be anything left to fight for? Get to bed. Go on.”

  Bym heard footsteps on the porch’s wooden boards and then the door being secured. Goblins. That must be what the horrible monsters were called. The lecherous bastards had to have been the Solis, and they were going to fight some rival religious fanatics called the Umbra. Why hadn’t any of this been on the news? In what fucked-up backwoods hell had she been dumped? She needed to get as far away as possible, especially if these people were preparing for war. It sounded to her like they were gathering females as some sort of sick religious sacrifices.

  “Not me, you fanatical fuckers.”

  The problem was how was she supposed to avoid being captured? She could only think of one way. Taking her hair down from her messy bun, she combed through it with her fingers and secured it into a tight ponytail close to the base of her neck. Then, she took the leather-handled knife from the feed bag. If they were looking for women, she’d have to pass for a guy. She felt sick to her stomach. She’d been growing her hair out since high school.

  “Fuck it.”

  Holding the knife in one hand and her ponytail in the other, she used the blade to saw back and forth through it. Seconds later, she held her hair in her hand. Strands of what remained, free to do as they wished, slid forward to tickle her jaw. Dropping her severed ponytail, she frowned down at the golden-brown hair that she’d worked so hard to grow. She was in control of her own destiny, and her first priority was to survive long enough to find a city or a police officer. Finding a paved road was her best bet.

  Tucking her butchered hair behind her ears and staying hidden, she crept around the property. Crouching low, she snuck over to the well, raised the bucket, and drank her fill before quietly lowering it and sneaking away. When she had a clear path to the back door of the barn, she kept her head down and walked briskly toward it. At least, she had two things in her favor. These people didn’t have electricity, so no motion detector lights alerted them of her trespassing, and the cows and sheep ignored her.