Wanderer's Song

by P. E. Padilla

  There was a sound like an animal emerging from the brush and a high whistling noise like when a thin switch cuts through the air. Raki grunted and then cried out. A crashing like someone falling came immediately after. Aeden could just see around the tree that Raki had gone down onto his hands and knees.

  He and Fahtin rushed toward their friend, but Tere Chizzit screamed at them to remain where they were. Knowing better than to argue, they both froze, watching their friend a dozen feet away drop to the forest floor as if his arms had turned to string.

  “Cuir aet boidh!” Aeden spat.

  “Step into a damn barb plant. Stupid boy!” Tere Chizzit said as he skirted Aeden and Fahtin and got to where he could see Raki clearly. His bow was in his hand and an arrow already nocked.

  Aeden blinked. Did he just see that bush near Raki swing its branches out and slap the boy’s arms and legs? He shook his head and narrowed his eyes to focus in the dim forest light. They had, and now they seemed to have punched through his clothing with some kind of thorns. Even more amazing, the twigs seemed to be pulling Raki toward the main body of the plant.

  Fahtin gasped. She had noticed the same thing.

  Three sharp twangs rent the air, followed immediately by a dull thunk like a heavy piece of wood was hit with a dull ax on soft ground. The plant emitted some kind of whistle and shook violently, tearing some of the branches from Raki’s limbs, taking flesh and bits of clothing with them. Tere shot another arrow, and this one apparently found the plant’s core because it shivered and then went still. The blind man shot another arrow into it just to be sure.

  When it hadn’t moved for several seconds, Tere Chizzit stepped carefully to the motionless boy and sliced through the thin branches still adhering to him with his long knife. Once that was accomplished, he grabbed one of Raki’s arms and dragged him well away from where he had fallen. The boy didn’t seem to be breathing.

  “Take the barbs from him,” the tracker said. “I have to find some Hunsen’s nettle, yellow wort, and draw weed. It’s his only chance.”

  Aeden and Fahtin did as he said, stripping off Raki’s clothes to find the thorns so thoroughly embedded into him that there was no way of taking them out without tearing his skin.

  “Don’t be squeamish,” Tere said as he moved off. “It’s his life. If you don’t get those out of him, he’ll die for sure. They are still pumping poison into him. Do it. Tear them out.”

  Aeden nodded and began to do as he had been told. He grabbed hold of each of the two dozen thorns and yanked as hard as he could. The barbs, facing the opposite way, held onto Raki’s skin and tore away chunks as they were pulled free.

  Fahtin was breathing heavily. When Aeden looked at her, he knew she was going to be sick.

  “I’ll do this,” he told her. “Go over there and breathe slowly. I’ll be done in a minute.” She did as he said, sitting on the ground and putting her head in her hands, breathing deliberately; out, then in, slowly.

  There were only a few of the thorns left to remove when Tere came back. Aeden removed them as the blind man put a wad of stringy green leaves into his mouth and chewed them, making a face that told Aeden they did not taste good at all. Raki looked like he had been in a battle. All over his arms and legs and a few areas on his shoulders and torso, he had small holes where the flesh had been ripped out. He was bleeding from them, but not profusely.

  Tere Chizzit spit out the wad of chewed leaves into his hand. “Take these,” he said. “Put them on all the wounds. They will draw some of the poison out.”

  Aeden started putting the wet globs of vegetable matter on the punctures. Fahtin, breathing more normally, came over to help him. Meanwhile, Tere Chizzit crushed another type of leaves in a small bowl he had taken from his pack and added some kind of root in the mixture. When it had been crushed finely, he poured water from his skin into the bowl to make a muddy brown mixture.

  “Tilt his head up,” he said to them. “I have to get some of this into him.” They lifted Raki’s chin, and the tracker pressed his thumb to the corner of Raki’s mouth, making it open. Aeden pressed his own thumb on the other side of the mouth so Tere could remove his hand and dribble some of the liquid down Raki’s throat while running his fingers down the boy’s neck to make him swallow. Tere soon had tipped all the fluid out, then pressed the remaining pulp to squeeze the last drops into Raki’s throat. Then he turned to the others.

  “It’s bad,” he said. “The barb plant is very poisonous. With so many injections, I don’t think I’ll be able to save him with what I know and the herbs that are available.”

  “Are you saying that he will die?” Aeden asked. The thought of it burned in him. Why did he ever let Raki join them? He knew it would be dangerous.

  “No,” Tere Chizzit said. “I said I cannot save him. There is someone in the forest who can, though. If the boy survives long enough for us to get him there.”

  “Then let’s stop wasting time and take him there,” Fahtin said, wiping a stray lock of hair from Raki’s pale face. He had settled into an uneasy sleep, his breathing labored but steady.

  “Yes,” the tracker said. “We will have to backtrack a bit. Urun is more toward the edge of the forest, south of where we passed before.”

  Aeden knelt and picked Raki up. He was not heavy, though he would become more so with each step.

  “You’ll never be able to carry him that far,” Tere Chizzit said, gently. “Give me a moment.”

  Aeden set Raki down again and followed Tere off into the underbrush. Fahtin sat next to the boy and held his hand. “I’ll keep him company,” she said. “If he is aware of what’s going on, I don’t want him to think we abandoned him.” Aeden nodded and continued on.

  The blind man was already cutting straight, long branches from a nearby tree. He was using some sort of wire or string, pulling it back and forth across the branch and cutting through the wood with remarkable ease. As his flexible saw made it through one branch, he tossed it to Aeden.

  “Strip that of all the twigs and leaves,” the man told him as he started on another branch. Aeden did so, using one of his swords to easily remove the extra foliage.

  It only took them ten minutes to prepare the branches they needed, two long sections and five shorter lengths. Tere Chizzit took some thin, tough cord from his pack and tied the wood together into a ladder shape.

  “Not a ladder,” he said, and Aeden realized he had been thinking aloud. “A litter.”

  They lined the framework with blankets from their packs, and Raki was soon lying in the litter, ready for them to go find the help he needed.

  At first, the two men carried the boy, using the framework they had made as a stretcher. Soon, though, Tere had to roam ahead to find their path and Fahtin took her turn. Despite how light the boy was, even Aeden’s arms were soon exhausted. He nearly lost his grip on the poles several times, almost dumping Raki to the ground. He was sure it was worse for Fahtin. She was strong, but not nearly as strong as him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes. My arms are tired, but I’ll be okay.” As she said it, she stumbled and nearly fell, using the last of her strength to control her end of the stretcher so it didn’t strike the ground too severely.

  After that, they alternated, sometimes carrying Raki and at others dragging the litter across the ground, if the terrain permitted it. It bumped and rocked over the ground as it got caught on bushes and roots, but they continued to move forward. They had to. It was Raki’s life on the line, after all.

  “How much farther?” Fahtin asked Tere as he came back to check on them. It had been more than four hours.

  “We’re not even a quarter of the way there, at my best guess.”

  The girl sighed and slogged on while Aeden dragged the unconscious boy.

  It was just becoming dark when the animaru caught up to them.

  35

  Aeden walked alongside the litter as Fahtin dragged it. She had insisted he take a rest and that sh
e take her turn in pulling. He argued, but not too vigorously. He had taken the biggest share of the work during the day to spare her from exhaustion, but he felt as if there was no power left in him at all. He wasn’t sure how long they could keep this up.

  Until they got to the healer, Aeden thought. That’s how long they would keep going. That’s how long they had to keep going.

  There was no warning other than a prickle in the back of Aeden’s mind and a rush of sound. Tere Chizzit could not be heard as he moved around in the thick foliage, and Aeden had become accustomed to the noise he and Fahtin made when dragging the litter, but this sound was different.

  It was so sudden that it surprised him, like a rush of wind or of a wave breaking on the beaches near his home in the highlands. It started suddenly, causing him to whip his head to the side, trying to see what it was that made it.

  A dozen black figures sped from the trees toward him. The animaru had found them, and he wasn’t sure he could withstand their charge.

  “Gealich claidhimh d’araesh sloach!” He drew his swords. His heavy muscles moved so slowly.

  The first three of the creatures stumbled and fell as arrows pierced their eyes. One of them disappeared, but the other two dragged themselves to their feet after they skipped and bounced across the forest floor, one hitting a tree hard in its trajectory. At least Tere Chizzit was there to help, though he couldn’t seem to do permanent damage.

  Fahtin had let the litter down and drawn her knives. She knew it was worthless to throw them, so she stood there, guarding Raki.

  “They’ve come for me,” Aeden said. “If I cannot withstand them, take Raki and get him to the healer.”

  Fahtin didn’t say anything, but the stubborn look on her face told him she would not leave him, even if the monsters overwhelmed him.

  Aeden began to move, slowly at first because of his tired limbs, but then a little more quickly as his muscles loosened up. His swords carved through the first two animaru before they had all surrounded him. He knew he couldn’t win the battle with his swords—it would take his magic—but he was so tired, it was difficult to concentrate.

  The creatures surrounding him were of the same type he had seen before. They were generally man-shaped, thin and wiry, and lightning quick. They carried no weapons, but instead slashed with their claws and snapped with their oversized teeth. It was all Aeden could do to keep them from bearing him to the ground with their combined mass.

  A claw came from behind and to his right. Aeden’s sword barely got up in time to slash along the palm and bat it away from him. At the same time, one of the other creatures tried to sweep his legs out from under him with its arm, thin as a willow switch but solid as a piece of iron. It almost succeeded. The Croagh shifted his weight to one leg, lifted the other to reduce the resistance to the beast’s arm, and spun. His attacker overcompensated and stumbled off to the side, crashing into another of its fellows. As Aeden completed his spin, he lashed out with both swords and removed the arm from one creature and put a deep gash into the leg of another. He couldn’t prevent the gash he himself got just below his ribs.

  Aeden swallowed, trying to work moisture into his scratchy throat. As he turned and twisted to avoid a bite from one animaru and claws from two others, dodging around a tree, he spoke the words of power to call up his magic to burn the creatures to ash.

  Magic flared weakly, but then died without doing anything more than pushing one of his attackers back a step. He was just too weak to properly use the magic he was still not familiar enough with.

  He wondered if this was where he would die. He looked to his friends in the second he had before the monsters came around the tree to attack again.

  Fahtin slashed at any of the creatures that came near her, but Aeden had purposely drawn them away from her. Tere Chizzit was firing arrows, but most of them didn’t have a lasting effect, the targets for the most part ignoring the shafts that embedded themselves in their vital areas. All the enemies that could be made to disappear had already gone, but there were still nearly a dozen of the monsters left.

  Aeden parried a claw, dodged another one, and moved toward a clump of thick bushes so his foes could not come at him all at once. As he moved, he tried to use another type of magic, Pulsing Fire, one of the minor spells he had learned from one of the books in his clan library. It involved fewer words and simpler actions than many of the other spells, not as powerful, but not as demanding on him, either. Again, it had no significant effect. He was just too fatigued for it to work properly.

  His mind raced. The first thing he learned as a boy was that you never gave up, you never stopped trying to determine what it would take to win a confrontation. He had to think, to come up with another way to defeat these monsters.

  It was like trying to push his way through a brick wall. There was an immovable barrier there in his mind keeping him from thinking straight. He saw images of himself running at a wall, striking it hard, bouncing back with such force it felt as if he had broken every bone in his body, and then turning to charge the wall again. But still, he kept trying.

  The creatures came around both sides of the obstruction he had entered. He had run out of places of escape. He brought his swords up and prepared for his final defense. It was too bad he didn’t know any powerful defense spells. He wished he at least had a shield or armor encasing him.

  And then it came to him.

  Quickly, Aeden made a few small gestures and spoke words of power. “Liso. Vinctire. Aruna!” His swords began to glow with a cool, white light that was easily visible in the darkening forest. Then the creatures were upon him.

  Using the last of his strength, Aeden whirled into action. He spun, dodging where he could, parrying or blocking when possible, receiving slashes when it was not. The difference was that with each cut of his glowing swords, the monsters screamed as the wounds he inflicted flared with light. When he removed the head of one of the animaru, it dropped to the ground and did not rise again. He had found a way to destroy them without directly attacking them with spells.

  He whittled the numbers of his foes down, cutting savagely at them. Arms, legs, and heads were separated from the bodies of the creatures, and soon a pile of bodies lay at Aeden’s feet. The final dark figure, noticing that all its fellows were dead, feinted toward Aeden as if to attack, and then took off running, trying to escape. Two arrows in the hollow behind its knees brought it down, and Aeden pounced on it, both swords driving through its head and impaling it to the ground. The Croagh heaved with effort and slashed the swords outward, tearing its head apart in their passing.

  Aeden looked around, saw that there were no other creatures moving, and then slumped to the ground. As he did so, the glow on his swords winked out and the darkened world spun.

  Fahtin and Tere Chizzit were there instantly, holding Aeden up. The world had dissolved into a dark tunnel, blackness at the edges pushing inward to take his vision away. He breathed deeply and then took a sip of water from the skin Fahtin had offered him. After a few breaths, his vision flickered and the tunnel reversed, allowing him to see more normally. By Codaghan, he was tired.

  “That was neatly done,” Tere Chizzit said. “I thought we were done for. Those monsters won’t die. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Aye,” Aeden said. “That’s the problem with the buggers. Only magic can kill them. I’m not sure why, but that’s how it is.”

  “Do you think there are more around?” Fahtin asked.

  “No,” Tere Chizzit said. “The way they acted, mindlessly attacking only Aeden to the exclusion of everything else, if there were more, they would have attacked. I don’t think these beasts are too fond of planning ahead.”

  Aeden thought the tracker was right, but was too tired to speak. He took another drink and waited until he thought he might be able to move.

  Fifteen minutes later, Aeden levered himself to his feet. He took an unsteady step forward and then stopped. So tired, he thought. I’ve never been thi
s tired. But then, he’d said the same thing before and most likely would again in the future. Things always seemed worse than they actually were. There was nothing for it but to move on. Raki’s life was at stake.

  “Do you think there will be more of them coming?” Fahtin asked as she watched him stumble. “Can we spare a little while for you to rest?”

  “No,” Aeden said, “to both questions. I don’t think there are more here right now, but there will be others eventually. We have to move now, or Raki won’t make it. I’m fine. Let’s go.”

  Fahtin insisted on dragging the litter by herself for the first half hour so Aeden could regain his strength. He shuffled along beside her, dodging the branches, roots, and other obstructions. He snacked on dried meat and some berries Tere Chizzit had found the day before. He began to feel like he might not die, but just barely.

  Switching off, Fahtin dragging Raki for a little while and then Aeden taking a turn, they made progress, if slow. Tere would come back and help occasionally, but he was normally up in front of them finding the best—and safest—path. As they traveled, the light faded and they continued on in the darkness. Somehow, the full moon’s light seemed to penetrate the canopy above as the sunlight could not, allowing them to see well enough to move. The foliage wasn’t as distinct as when the sun was up, but Aeden and Fahtin could drag Raki without tripping too often. Tere moved as easily as he had earlier. For him, it probably didn’t matter that the sun had gone down.

  It amazed Aeden that the part of the forest they were in felt different than the one where Raki had found the plant. It felt a little more comfortable, not as dangerous or unpredictable. He had never felt a personality of a place before, but did now. It was almost as if the land around him, the trees and other plants, even the small animals, held ill intent. At least, that’s how the other part of the forest felt. Though he was tense when they were in the edge of the Grundenwald before, now it seemed to be an old friend. He guessed it was true what people said: your perception of a thing was based on other things you had experienced. They’d seen a much more dangerous part of the forest than the one they were currently in, and it made this part look tamer.