by Garry Spoor
“I’m sure your Lordship did everything he could,” Folkstaff added.
“Maybe, although, I fear I have a long way to go before I can remove this blemish from my family tree,” Lord Bollen replied. He looked genuinely remorseful. “His lands and his title have been stripped from him, so his son, wherever he may be, is no longer afforded the privileges of the house of Rimes. He is the last of that line.”
“Eric is with his uncle in the wastelands,” Kile said. She figured everyone should have known that by now.
“His uncle?”
“Second uncle, great aunt, third cousin, whichever. You know the guy, Jonland Waltair. Although, now he goes by the name of Ravenshadow, for some reason.”
“I don’t think this is the appropriate time, Hunter Veller.” Folkstaff replied, his voice dropping to a more serious level.
“What? He didn’t know?” she asked.
“I knew,” Lord Bollen replied. “I was not aware you did. It is not common knowledge. How is it you know of this, and of Eric Rimes location?”
Kile looked between Folkstaff and Lord Bollen. Neither looked very happy at the moment.
“Please, I’ve been to his house,” she replied dismissively.
“I don’t think this is the best place to be discussing these matters.” Folkstaff said again. He looked around at the other soldiers, but nobody appeared to be very interested in what they were talking about anyway. “Perhaps I should take Hunter Veller to the infirmary,” he added. Kile could tell, by the tone of his voice, it wasn’t a suggestion.
“Yes, of course.” Lord Bollen replied. “But I would like to speak more on this, if I may, Hunter Veller.”
“Sure thing, as long as you get to me before I desert,” she replied.
Folkstaff led her away from Lord Bollen and down the Cliff Road. They rode among the men who had the grim task of collecting the dead. So many, for nothing, she thought.
“It would appear Master Adams may have to give you a refresher course on speaking with royalty.” Folkstaff said when they were far enough away.
“Sorry sir, but all this secrecy, and for what? These men risked their lives and died here without even knowing why. All they knew was, the Lord, they were working for, turned against the crown, and suddenly they’re enemies of the realm.”
“Yes, that is the way of things,” Folkstaff replied. “But regardless of how you feel, Lord Bollen is an honorable man and is deserving of some respect.”
“I suppose,” She said with little conviction. “But it would seem so much easier if the lords and the kings fought among themselves and left people like Tullner to his farm, or Sandson to his store, instead of dragging everybody into it. I don’t even think the valrik wanted to be here.”
“If only it was that simple.”
Kile rode in silence through the remains of the battlefield as they passed the dead who were laid out along the side of the road. Some of the fallen had tattered pieces of cloth or blankets draped over their faces, but most did not. She could almost believe they were sleeping, although she knew that to be naive. Slowing down, she looked at each face and tried to remember if she had seen them before or if she had even spoken to them. These men were given a chance to leave Moran and yet they stayed. And this was their reward.
Stopping Grim, she dismounted when she found Emlyed, sleeping alongside the others. She rode with this man out of Base Camp Reilly and through the Denal province. He came to her aid when she needed the gates open to save Alex, and yet she knew nothing about him. They said he was a convict given the option of the gallows or the battlefield. Has he paid for his crimes this day?
Beside Emlyed was another member of Perha Squad. Although a thick woolen blanket covered his face, it couldn’t hide his identity. She knew before she removed, it was Private Ustar. He was of the Toreen out of Balaa. She had briefly traveled with the Toreen who worked for the Undack Merchant Line. They were a kind, fun loving, carefree people, and cared very little for war or politics. How was it a child of the Toreen ended up here, so far away from home?
She was grateful to see the hounds were also being laid out alongside the soldiers. All of these, she knew by name. So many died here and they never really knew why, and the war still goes on.
“We should go now, Kile,” Folkstaff said.
“Why did they retreat so quickly?” she asked.
“I’m sorry?”
“The valrik. You said you weren’t surprised they retreated so quickly, even though they outnumbered us.”
“The death of their commander for one. They have a very simple command structure. Once the head is cut off, the body dies. There is no one to take its place. There was no reason for them to continue.”
“It’s more than that though,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think they want to fight any more than we do.”
***~~~***
17
Kile was sick of seeing the inside of hospitals. Although, this one was far from what she was used to. The building survived the destruction of Moran, but just barely. One of the walls lay in a crumpled heap of stone and debris and the roof didn’t fare much better. From where she was lying, she could see the stars in the night sky through the holes between the rafters. Instead of beds, the wounded were lined up along the wall, much like the dead were laid out in the streets. The only real difference was the wounded were lying on their blankets, not under them.
The room had the strong smell of fresh herbs, antiseptic cloth and a variety of different medicines, but there was one overpowering odor which hung in the air. She didn’t like to think about it, or to give it a name, but she knew what it was. The smell was becoming all too familiar. The dogs knew what it was. They called it the Lasting although she wasn’t sure why. She knew it had something to do with the whole cycle of life thing Gorum tried to explain to her, and it was possible she somehow misinterpreted the word, but it still came down to this: she was smelling death. It was as though there was a physical presence in the room with them, moving from one man to the next, picking and choosing who it would take and who it would spare. Each time it made a selection the smell would suddenly grow stronger, but only for a moment. It was almost as if a door to some unknown world was briefly opened, and foul air would seep through before it could be closed again.
The sounds of the infirmary were no better as she lay there listening to the wounded. She could hear them, each distinct voice moaning in pain. One of the voices would go silent, and the smell would grow stronger. Another one had been chosen. If she stayed here any longer, she would probably go mad.
Slowly getting to her feet, she braced herself against the wall. Her leg was stiff. It was either from the wound she received, or because she had been sitting on the cold stone floor for more than six hours. She stumbled toward the door. She had to get outside, she needed to get outside, and she almost made it.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the nonay hissed.
They appeared with the King’s Command. A whole gaggle of them arrived with his support groups. They set up the infirmary as well as the mess hall and bathing facilities.
“Out for a breath of fresh air,” Kile replied, trying for the door again. If only her leg would obey, she could easily outrun the old woman.
“You will do no such thing. The air is fresh enough in here,” the nonay replied. She was a rather large woman with the face of a horse. She would have served better on the front line, battling the valrik, than a lending aid to the wounded.
“That’s rather a matter of opinion,” Kile replied.
“You will return to your bed and wait for the healer to arrive.”
Well, if she actually had a bed, she might return to it, but a blanket on the floor can hardly be called a bed.
“Look, I’ve got to get out of here, now,” Kile pleaded.
“Bed,” the nonay said, pointing to the blanket.
“Please, you don’t understand.”
�
��Bed.”
“It’s all right, Beth, I’ll take care of it,” came the voice from the doorway.
“If you say so, sir,” the horse faced woman replied, although she didn’t appear to be very happy at having her authority challenged.
Kile turned to the man standing between her and the wild.
“Daniel?”
“Long time no see,” he said, stepping into the room. “I figured if anyone was causing trouble at this time of night, it had to be you. You really should listen to Beth and get back to bed.”
“I can’t, Danny. You know I can’t stay in here.”
Daniel looked at her for a moment, and then slowly nodded. “Yeah, I know,” He said with a sigh. “Come on then, let’s get you out of here.”
He placed his arm around her and led her out of the infirmary. The more distance she put between her and that building, the better she felt. Just breathing the night air was enough for her. It was clear with just a hint of a chill. Summer was nearing an end and the autumn weather would soon be upon them. The growing concern now, among the soldiers, was the harvest season. Most of these young men would have been on their farms preparing for the year's end, if they had not been dragged into the war.
“Feeling any better?” He asked, leading her over to the stone wall.
“Yes, thank you,” She replied. “So when did you get here and why haven’t I seen you earlier?”
“I saw you. How do you think your arm healed so quickly?”
Kile reached for her shoulder. She hadn’t realized the pain in her arm was gone, because she was so focused on the pain in her leg.
Daniel laughed. “I came in with the support group, but you were asleep at the time. Actually, this is the first free moment I’ve had,” he said, rubbing his eyes.
“Is it bad?” She asked.
“Is it ever good?”
“Yeah, but you can help them. I mean, that is your Edge.”
“I wish it was that easy.” Daniel replied, getting to his feet. “I can’t seem to help any of them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My Edge has its limits,” He replied. “The more I use it the more drained I become, and then I’m no use to anyone. Sure, I can heal the small wounds; the broken bones, the lacerations, they’re not a problem. But if I focus only on the minor injuries, I can’t help those who really need it. And even after using all my arts and everything I learned in Littenbeck, I can’t save them all.”
“Sorry. I guess all our Edges have limitations.”
“We never had a chance to find out, back at the Academy.”
“There were a lot of things the Academy failed to teach us.” Kile replied. She tried bending her leg, but it was just too stiff.
“Here, let me help you with that.” Daniel said, kneeling down beside her.
“No, you’re tired. I’ll be fine. You should probably get some rest.”
“If I can do nothing else this day, the least I can do is see that my friend is not in pain,” he said, and laid his hands upon her leg.
Kile could smell the change in the air while Daniel worked his arts. She could only describe it as the smell of a spring day after a heavy rain. She was getting better at detecting the different arts by their smells, although, she hadn’t told anyone about it. If people found it odd she could communicate with the natural world, what would they say if she told them she could smell magic? She wasn’t even sure if she believed it herself.
She watched while strands of blue light spread out from his fingers and slowly wound their way around her leg. That was something else no one else could do-- see magic. And she could feel its effects as it warmed her leg and healed the wounded flesh. Within moments the pain was completely gone.
“There you go,” he said, slowly getting to his feet. He wobbled a bit before taking a seat beside her on the wall.
“Thank you, but you should really rest,” she told him.
“I’ll be okay in a moment,” he assured her.
“You don’t look okay, you look a bit pale.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”
They sat for a while in silence, staring up at the stars. It was the first real moment of peace she had in some time. She was beginning to feel normal again.
Daniel started laughing. “Oh, by the way,” he said. “You may want to know. Alex has a whole repertoire of new stories he’s been telling in the Forthbar Hospital, and most of them are about the Wild Hunter.”
So much for that moment of peace.
“He is so dead,” she replied.
“Actually, they’re pretty entertaining. I’ve sat through a few of them myself, when I had the time. Have you seen his work lately? It’s quite impressive.”
“How is he otherwise?” she asked.
“You know Alex. Nothing ever gets him down. The guy nearly gets torn asunder, and loses an eye, but he’s as cheerful as ever. Did you know he’s been talking about quitting the Guild?”
“I don’t think he has much of a choice,” Kile replied. “Is there anything you can do for him?”
“No, the damage was already done. Maybe, if I had gotten to him sooner I might have been able to do something, but it looked pretty bad.”
“It was,” she assured him.
“Our survival group isn’t surviving very well,” Daniel said with a shrug. “With Murphy dead, Carter missing and Alex injured, that just leaves you and me.”
“That just leaves you,” she replied.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean… I think I’m losing my sanity.”
Daniel started to laugh, but quickly stopped when Kile didn’t join him.
“You’re serious.” he said.
“I don’t know. It’s just that…”
Kile never got the chance to tell Daniel what she was feeling. A loud shriek from the far side of the compound ended their conversation.
“That came from the mess hall.” Daniel said, jumping to his feet, but Kile was already half way across the compound. For some reason, she was driven by an urgency she couldn’t explain.
The mess hall was just another one of the few buildings on the eastern side of the outpost which survived the collapse. It was once an old warehouse, but a few crudely made tables and a bar quickly converted it into a dining hall, although pub would be a better description. Soldiers from the Callor forces, as well as those from the King’s Command, tried to escape their memories of the war at the bottom of a glass. The nonays served food, or what barely passed as food, to those who were willing to eat it. The place was fairly active, even this late at night, but it wasn’t the food or the spirits which had the hall in an uproar. It was what came looking for the food.
Reaching the door to the mess hall, Kile saw soldiers, standing around watching, what could only be described as, an impromptu floor show. They were laughing, drinking and pointing at three women armed with brooms who were in the process of chasing something around the floor.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“It's just the nonays,” a young soldier laughed, nearly spilling his drink. “Some rodents got into the food supplies and now they’re all up in arms.”
Rats would never be so bold as to enter a crowded room, seeking food, she thought. She started pushing her way through the crowd. There had to be something more to it. Were these the same rats she sent to disable the catapult? If they were, they didn’t deserve this kind of treatment.
When physical force didn’t look as if it was going to work, she climbed up onto one of the tables to get a better look. It was no more than an old wooden door set up on two barrels, but it allowed her to see over the heads of the soldiers. What she saw was not what she expected. It wasn’t a rat the nonays cornered, it was a yarrow.
“Vesper!” she cried, grabbing the soldier in front of her and vaulting over his head. The young man fell forward and took two more soldiers down with him. As all four of them hit the floo
r, Kile managed to land on her feet. She sprang forward, grabbing the yarrow when it ran toward her and got a broom upside the head for her troubles. This only resulted in the spectators laughing even louder.
“What the hell is your problem, kid?” one soldier shouted, getting to his feet. “You spilled my drink.”
“Get that dirty thing out of here,” the nonay yelled. She was brandishing her broom like a quarterstaff and struck Kile again.
Vesper wasn’t helping. He was too busy seeking refuge in Kile’s shirt. It only made getting things under control that much harder.
“What the hell is that kid doing in here anyhow?” A man in the back of the room yelled.
“Mind your tongue, that’s my commanding officer.”
Kile recognized Anurr of Perha Squad. Anurr could be quick tempered, but even he wouldn’t be foolish enough to start a fight over this.
“Commanding officer,” the man yelled back “Are you saying you were led by a little girl?”
Laughter erupted from the crowd, followed by the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting someone’s jaw. That was all it took to get the party started. Before Kile could do, or say anything, fists, chairs and any other piece of furniture in easy reach, were flying through the air. She quickly scrambled over the bar as a large crate shattered against the wall behind her.
-Kile mad?-
Vesper asked from inside her shirt.
“You did not just ask me that right now, did you?”
A chair sailed over the counter, followed closely by a member of the King’s Command. This was starting to get ugly. Her only means of escape was the door on the opposite side of the room. All she had to do was try to get past thirty or forty drunken brawlers.
She moved around one side of the bar when three men, locked in combat, took out the counter, as well as most of the bottles on the wall. Kile ducked into one of the crates when everything came crashing down. The smell of liquor, vomit and sweat, along with the unending noise, was too much. She covered her ears and tried to block it out, but it was no use. Her senses were on overload and her head was beginning to throb, if it didn’t stop soon she would go insane. It was becoming harder and harder to concentrate. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she was finding it difficult to breathe. She could already smell their blood and she wanted it, she craved it and it scared her. This wasn’t her. Why was this happening?
