Fates Choice

by Tristan Fairfield

  Torr had to be helped off the caravan again. A surprising number of apprentices in their now familiar brown cowls were now acting as orderlies, assisting the walking wounded and carrying food and water.

  For the first time Torr noted that some among the apprentices were girls. The robes and shaved heads giving them all an air of androgyny. Bernhart had helped him down but the four men were quickly approached by one of the apprentices although Torr noticed her robe was interwoven with red and blue bands around the hem and wrists.

  “Sir, are you alright, are you injured?” This was the first time Torr had heard one of the apprentices speak. He had presumed, up until now, that they all had to take vows of silence (or worse) and that all were equal in the eyes of their tutors, until he heard the young woman speak. Perhaps she was at the end of her training or, even, in charge of all the other apprentices.

  Torr had no idea how it worked as his life, up until recently, had been entirely magic free, as far as he was aware. Whilst he was aware of the presence of Oaks Keep and it’s nature, it had never been mentioned in detail, as far as he could remember, during his own studies. He wondered if the church perhaps disapproved of wizards as a whole. As he continued to muse, he felt someone tugging at his impromptu crutch which he had kept almost subconsciously. He half turned and saw another apprentice, trying to take his staff from him.

  “Hey!”

  Unlike the first apprentice to approach them, this one did not respond, but just looked pleadingly at Bernhart.

  “That’s fine”. Bernhart waved the orderly away before turning to the other who had asked after the wizard’s welfare.

  “Cedwyn, we could all use baths I suspect. Can you arrange for tubs to be placed in each of these gentleman’s rooms”. So they do have names at least, Torr thought. “Also some food and, if we have any spare, some wine from the cellars bought up as well”. Bernhart was now talking to the back of Cedwyn, who was already rushing off with her newly assigned task.

  “Gentleman,. I do not believe there is anything further we can do tonight. All who need treatment have the best care that can possibly be found and I believe we have discussed all that is vital for today. We would all best be served with some rest and concluding any other issues tomorrow morning, whilst we await Lieutenant Culos and his men”.

  There was no argument from Garel or Sergeant Bourne. The number of orderlies running into and out of the keep itself again seemed out of kilter with the relatively small size of the settlement and the main floor of the keep that they were scurrying from. Again, Torr wondered where they all slept and went about their daily routines as yet another approached him and led him back to the same room that Carodin, Raeknor and he had shared only the night before.

  Two others led Garel and Sergeant Bourne to their separate quarters. The girl that had been charged with leading Torr had to stop occasionally as Torr limped his way up the stairs, returning to her charge every now and again to silently offer him support.

  “That’s fine, I can manage”, he said still using his branch for support, “unless you have some way of magically getting me there that is!” A grim smile passed his lips for the first time that day but, predictably, he got no response.

  He realised he was starting to stare at the girl’s backside as they, slowly, made their way to his room.

  “So what’s your name then?” he enquired politely but again, got no reply.

  His leg was now starting to hurt more so, reluctantly, he asked for aid. He put out his left arm for her to put her shoulders under to help support him. She appeared to buckle a little with the effort. “I’m sorry, once we get into my room I can take my armour off. That’s half of the weight I’m afraid”.

  Eventually, after the girl appeared to have broken a sweat, they reached the door that Torr recognised. To his amazement, a full bath-sized oak bucket was already steaming nicely in his room.

  The girl released his weight, with a slight thump, onto the bench that ran under the window. She started to add what appeared to be some oils to the bath, which gave off a very sweet aroma. Torr quickly noticed the wine which had just been delivered in a large pewter jug. He reached across with one hand whilst fumbling with his belt with the other.

  Ignoring the matching goblet, Torr just drank the wine from the jug, taking great gulps, as if drinking his favourite cider or ale. The effect, coupled with the exhaustion of the day, was quick to hit him.

  He had just enough time to place the gem, still in its small silvered container, on the bench next to him before he returned to struggling with his armour. The young apprentice was just finishing with her task when she noticed that Torr was still struggling to remove his chain hauberk. She motioned to him to lift his arms, which he willingly did, instructing the apprentice on which buckle needed to be undone in order. His top armour and padding removed, he turned his attention to try and get out of his twisted splint leg protectors.

  The blood on his wound had now dried, causing him to involuntarily cry out when he tried to remove it. The girl leapt back. Torr took the opportunity to pick up the jug of wine to help with the inevitable pain he would feel as the broken splints, soaked through with blood to the under padding on his leg and caked to his skin, would have to be pulled away.

  “Right, I’ll try not to shout again he said, beckoning the girl forward. She couldn’t have been any older than him. He genuinely started to wonder what her story was and how she came to be here. For now, a final dose of pain seemed due before he could get into the bath.

  The girl stood where she was and pointed to the bath, then to Torr, then back to the bath.

  “Yes, I know, I’d love to get into that and, frankly, I’m happy for you to join me”. Torr took another gulp of wine. But I need you to help me out of this first.

  The girl shook her head and continued to point to the path.

  “Oh look, I’ve managed to kill a fifteen foot high gaestnip today, watched men being butchered and, only just the night before, been told I’m like you and now I’ve got to play mimes!”

  The girl’s eyes widened. Torr was a bit slow to realise that he had just claimed to be an apprentice wizard. He also then realised that, if he got in the bath as he was, the water would help him with his armour.

  “Ohh...sorry...you mean if I get in like this, it’ll loosen the armour”.

  The girl smiled for the first time and nodded.

  “Right but you’ll still have to help me in ‘cos I can’t lift my leg up - look”. Torr made a display of trying to lift his leg up over the three foot high barrel bath.

  The girl stooped down slightly so Torr could hold his arm out again. With some difficulty and attempts by the girl not to forsake her apparent vow of silence by exclaiming with the effort, she deposited Torr in the bath very unceremoniously, almost knocking it clean over.

  The girl’s show of facial expression now doubled to include a slight scowl as the act of getting Torr into the bath had meant she was now wearing a fair bit of the water.

  Torr grinned as the wine continued to take hold. “I’m really sorry. Tell you what, why don’t you take that rather drab garment off and come and join me. I’ll probably still need help to take the armour off you know”.

  The girl smiled, and left the room!

  CHAPTER TEN

  T orr should have slept soundly, but he didn’t. He had managed to fall asleep in the bath, spilling the rest of his wine into the water. When he came round, he found he could take his armour off and his leg felt better.

  In the dimming candle light, his wound looked quite deep. He would have a scar. Torr wasn’t sure how he felt about that as he half fell out the bath, which had stayed quite warm, and into the bunk he had occupied just the night before.

  In his dreams, he saw Elswyth, but she was joined by visions of another red haired woman as well. Her skin was even paler than that of Elswyth. Their surroundings were utterly alien to him. A thick forest, but not like any deciduous tree he recognised, shapes dancing around the
edge of the clearing that he and the two women found themselves in.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the chest that contained the gem opening on its own. It was next to him where he lay on his back, on a strange grass that seemed very soft. The two females approached him, smiling. The sensations seemed very vivid as the both girls sat astride him.

  The gem flew from the chest, a brilliant glowing amber, blinding Torr and turning the two girls into vicious demons, twisted and horrible to behold, now tearing at his flesh. Torr let out the silent scream that only those stuck in a true nightmare can utter.

  ************************************

  He had not closed the wooden shutters as the light of dawn broke through his room. He had been too tired to blow the last candles out, before falling into his nightmare. He was sweating now as well. He got up wearily, as the wine made its presence felt in his head. He looked at his leg, which was now almost completely bruised and slightly swollen from thigh to knee joint. He hobbled over to his now trusty staff, testing the temperature of the water with one hand, before dunking his head into the cold water. It still had bits of foliage floating in it. The last remnants of the tree that had left its mark on him. .

  He looked at his under garments and padding, which were still wet. His splint leg mail had fallen apart once he had taken it off. But his chain shirt still seemed serviceable. However, fresh garments had been laid out for him. Sunlord knew when they had arrived, or if it was the same girl from last night that delivered them. The nightmare was still fresh in his head so it was with trepidation that he picked up the silver box and tucked it away in his belt pouch. He got dressed, with some difficulty still, and left, hoping that company and the light of day would banish last night from his mind. He only reached the first flight of stairs though before his sense of direction failed him. He grabbed the next apprentice walking past and asked for assistance. He was still having difficulty managing the stairs with just his staff anyway, as well as the fact that he would have lost himself forever if he tried to find his own way out.

  It was not far past dawn when Torr hobbled downstairs, clutching his trusty branch as he was helped out, into a bustle of activity.

  Men were preparing wagons for those who could not walk back and equipment was also being gathered. He went to the stables to find Raelf, seemingly none the worse for wear for his encounter yesterday. The horse was munching contently on the fodder trough.

  He walked back towards the gate, to see if he could find Garel or anyone but, as he did, he saw a young infantryman being helped out of the door that, he thought, led to the infirmary. For all his tiredness and relief at his own survival, he had not gone to see Raeknor.

  He tried to run but could not. So he lurched, as fast as he dare, to avoid falling flat on his face, back into the lower floor of Oaks Keep. He collared the first apprentice he saw who, bewildered by Torr’s sudden approach, pointed to the infirmary.

  Once again, the hallway down which he limped seemed longer than the side of the building. He saw in the distance wounded soldiers walking between rooms or being helped by what now appeared to be an entire army of apprentices. He burst into the first door on his left, startling a man dressed in robes, sitting behind a table close to the door.

  “Raeknor, the young magistrate, Raeknor Millerson, where is he?”

  The man stared at the impertinent young soldier before him now. Keeping his calm and dignity he, slowly, started to thumb through pages of a ledger in front of him. Torr felt like ripping the book from the man’s hands. As his anger grew, so did a tingling in his fingers.

  The man looked up in response, his stoic expression dropping, although he said nothing and continued to thumb through his list.

  “Next door along”, the man said to Torr, as he hurried out, having forgotten every good grace he had been brought up to give.

  He lumbered down to the next door, but there was one on each side of him. He opened the door nearest him and took in a long galley room, with bunks on either side, full of injured men. As he went along, ignoring the stares of the few apothecaries and their assistants, he saw men lying as still as death. Some were still thrashing around in pain and some just sat, staring at their missing hands, feet or arms. Despite the best endeavours to mask the smell with strongly scented candles, there was a putrid undertone which made Torr wonder if death in battle was a more fitting end to this purgatory.

  He found Raeknor, towards the end, either dead or sleeping, Torr could not tell. He tried listening for sounds of his friend breathing but could hear none. He was dressed in a white gown which was still bloody on his shoulder, even though it was heavily bandaged.

  “I’m so sorry” Torr said to his friend. “I just couldn’t get to you in time. I tried but.... If it helps, the bastard’s dead. They’re all dead and, by the Sunlord, I will kill every gaestnip in the world. Just, come back”.

  Torr could feel someone standing behind him. He turned to see a man dressed in a thick flowing robe, armed with a belt of surgical equipment. A flask half full of a green potion, swung at his belt and he was clutching a scroll.

  “Keep going young man. Your friend maybe half way between here and The Sunlord but he can still hear you”. The apothecary was looking at Raeknor now as he spoke. “Many who have come out of his form of deep sleep often say they recall what loved ones have said to them with crystal clarity”.

  Torr just looked at Raeknor. “So he’s.....”

  “Alive, yes. And his wound, as far as we can tell, is free from infection. It is in The Lord’s hands if he returns to us now or not. Either way, we will know in a day or so”.

  “Thankyou, I tried to stop....but, he was too far away and...” Torr felt an unexplained need to justify why Raeknor was now lying here, even to this complete stranger, whilst he was still walking, well, limping around.

  “You don’t need to justify your bravery to me. It’s Torr, Torr Skarsdale isn’t it?” enquired the man.

  “Yes, how did you...”

  “Bernhart Rowe told me”. The apothecary looked him up and down. “Described you very well. In fact, he asked me to come and see you, when I had a spare moment but, as you can see”, the man waved his arm to encompass the room, “it’s been a bit busy. Still, looks like you’ve saved me the trouble. Of trying to find you that is. You’ll want that leg looking at won’t you?”

  As the apothecary sat Torr down and examined his leg, he introduced himself as Silus Widekson, chief of medicinal studies at Oaks Keep.

  Before Torr could protest, an orderly had been summoned, with fresh bandages and some form of cold liniment, which was applied, before the bandage. Silus continued to talk to Torr as the orderly treated his wound.

  “That should keep you going until you get home. Word will be sent to Paegas church and the infirmary at the garrison on everyone’s wounds. We will send what supplies we can”. Silus paused. “I think they will be very busy for some time to come. Such an unfortunate mess”. Torr noticed that he had the faintest of Alrunian accents.

  “And I believe we may be seeing you again, yes, but not for your wound”. Silus wore half rimmed spectacles, ideal for peering down his nose, asserting his authority and wisdom.

  “Umm..I’m not sure. It hasn’t really been explained to me what...”

  “Ahh..I’m sorry, you have more immediate concerns, yes. Well, I suspect Master Rowe will wish to speak with you before you go but, for now, I must try and sort through those who are well enough to travel and those who must remain”. Silus held out his hand. “A pleasure to meet you young sir”.

  As Torr went to shake the apothecary’s hand, he felt that sensation on the back of his neck again. Silus winked at him and left.

  After his leg had been bandaged, Torr said goodbye to Raeknor and promised he would return as soon as he could.

  The liniment seemed very cool and soothing and he’d even been given a long shaped cane with a crook at the top, for support.

  He had a strange desire to keep
his branch that had escorted him from the battlefield though. It was now at his feet. He picked it up also and made his way out of the infirmary, into the courtyard, where he found Caenet now at the stables, helping groom the horses.

  “There you are Caenet...I mean Sergeant”. Torr had almost forgotten that he was still, essentially, on an active commission. Addressing his old horsemaster by rank was still a requirement, particularly with other men walking past with tack and hay.

  Caenet turned and saluted. “Good to see you up and about sir. How’s the leg?” Caenet pointed.

  “Oh...fine” Torr dismissed the concern and asked after Caenet’s welfare and an account of what had happened after both men disappeared from each other’s sight when the giantkin fell between them.

  “The thing almost fell on me and my mount, which also tried to trample me in his efforts to get out of the way of the brutes fist. And I damn near skewered myself on the other end of that sodding billhook, but it did the trick. Afterwards, I looked and the point had disappeared right through the other side of the beasts arm”.

  “But you, what about you...are you...”

  “Injured. No. Not even a scratch. Got some bruises but Sergeant Caenet lives to see another day”.

  Caenet looked to either side to check no one was in ear-shot and put his hand on Torr’s shoulder and squeezed.

  “You did well sir, you really did but, if I may, what happened to your mace? I could see the head had burst into flame”.

  Torr realised that he may end up explaining this a lot. Gods, he didn’t even know how he would broach the topic with his family.