by Guy Antibes
“Pretend it is another drill,” Harrison said.
“But you always beat me,” Sam said.
“Use your imagination, lad.”
The men advanced. Emmy barked again.
“You are wasting armor on that dog,” one of the men said before he charged Emmy with a raised sword.
Sam slid to his side and stopped the sword just as Emmy leaped on the man’s chest, pushing him backward and down into the dirt. The dog made a quick job, going for the man’s throat. The battle started. Sam and Emmy fought the next man, who was warier than the first. The other two attacked Harrison.
Sam wanted to see how the healer performed, but his opponent forced him into defending Emmy and himself. With just a sword, Sam wouldn’t have a chance as he focused on stopping the man’s attacks on Emmy. Sam couldn’t stop the man’s blows, so he kept his blade flat and let Emmy’s pollen armor keep Sam’s sword from doing any damage.
Sam saw an opening and thrust the wand, now back to being a poker with the tip removed. The man wore pollen armor, but gold foil on the tip slid through whatever the armor might have looked like and into the man’s body. Sam thrust again, and the man went down, clutching his chest.
Sam turned just in time to deflect the third man trying to kill Emmy. His strategy remained the same. He kept his mind as clear as he could. Harrison defeated his foe and turned to finish off the last man while Sam continued to protect his dog.
Harrison threw down his sword and inspected all the men. “Two for me, one for Emmy and one for you,” he said. “Ever kill a man before?”
Sam shook his head. “I didn’t enjoy it, if that’s what you meant.”
“It wasn’t,” Harrison said. He was in soldier mode again. Gone were the light comments. “This one,” he pointed to the man that Sam had stabbed twice with the poker, “has got a few minutes left.” Harrison did something with pollen over the man’s face, and his breathing stopped. He ripped the pollen mask off. “Touch it with your golden tip,” he said to Sam. “I don’t want it left as evidence. I gave him a peaceful ending. He wasn’t even aware I blocked his breathing.”
Sam could see that. He finally sunk to the ground. Emmy looked intact, but there was blood around her mouth and on her paws. “We’ll have to wash her off.”
“We won’t,” Harrison said, looking skyward. “Havetta will.”
By the time they dragged the bodies underneath the rock overhang and retrieved the horses, the storm had arrived, drenching the battlefield, washing the blood spilled on the ground. Sam helped Harrison with various cuts he had sustained, and Harrison patched Sam up a bit. Emmy seemed to be unfazed by the encounter. Harrison removed her pollen armor, and Sam watched the dog step into the deluge and open her mouth to drink rainwater. The blood washed down her face and legs until she was clean. She flinched at the thunder but kept her mouth pointed towards the sky.
“Most dogs would be cowering at Havetta’s heavenly fireworks,” Harrison said. “You’ve got yourself some dog.”
Sam smiled. “I do, don’t I? How did you know they were coming for us?”
“Bagbox is the most powerful man in the village. I did my best to shame him. A man with that kind of ego and a gaggle of thugs would have to punish me, wouldn’t he? What better way than to wait for us to gather herbs in a remote area and then kill us. I do the harvesting every time I’m in Horner’s Rest, so that is no secret. I am certain Bagbox didn’t intend for the three of us to return to the village.”
Once the shower had passed, Harrison and Sam dragged the bodies onto their horses, and each pulled a string of two horses with their former riders draped across the saddles. They slipped and slid down to Horner’s Rest and found the small cottage that served as the Toraltian constabulary’s outpost.
The constabulary administered justice within the country unless there was an armed insurrection, which happened more often in the flatter part of Toraltia. Border enforcement was an Army responsibility.
With the continued showers, the single constable assigned to Horner’s Rest had holed up in the headquarters. It consisted of an office and two open-barred cells.
“I have some customers, but they won’t need cells,” Harrison said. “I think they might be in the employ of Mister Bagbox.”
The constable rose to his feet. Sam was taller than he. His eyes goggled when Bagbox’s name was mentioned. “They are dead?”
Harrison nodded and showed him his shredded clothes and the bandages beneath. “They didn’t know I was an ex-soldier. You are new here, eh?”
The constable nodded and then scribbled down the story and helped Harrison and Sam untie the bodies. They laid them out on the grass verge in front of the cottage. The constable waved his hands and must have made a covering over the bodies.
“There is a woodsman on the far side of the village who does the undertaking around here. I’ll head to Lord Bagbox’s house and then notify the woodsman,” the constable said.
“I suggest that you don’t put a title on Bagbox’s name, for your own good,” Harrison said.
The constable looked nervously at the healer. “Of course. It’s what he calls himself.”
“We will head back to the inn. Do you need us for anything else?”
The man shook his head. “No. I can see it was a matter of self-defense, if you’ll show me some of the herbs you collected.”
Sam went to his horse and took the cloth bag filled with their harvest.
“Good enough.” The constable briskly walked towards the big house.
Harrison watched the constable. “He is not on our side,”
“So it is time to leave Horner’s Rest?” Sam asked.
“A strategic retreat? I think so. Let’s visit Milla, first.” They left the bodies and the men’s horses tied to the constabulary hitching post and rode to the healer’s cottage.
Milla opened the door before they could knock. “Come in,” she said. “It looks like the dog is intact.”
“You heard?”
She nodded. “From what I heard, you weren’t supposed to return. It looks like you and the boy aren’t gravely injured. Do I need to sew anything?”
Harrison looked sideways at Sam. “Yes. A few stitches would work wonders,” he said, pulling down his trousers, revealing a bloody bandage. “Don’t ask me how I got this. I’ll never know.”
The healer winced when she undid the tight bandage. Harrison hadn’t shown Sam the wound.
“More than a few. My best poultice stings, you know.”
Harrison nodded and lay down on an examination table nearly waist-high in the room. Milla used pollen thread. Sam watched as the invisible cord tugged and gradually pulled the gash shut. He counted fourteen holes in his skin. She put a fresh bandage on.
“What about Bagbox’s men?”
After pursing his lips, he said, “None of them made it. There were four.”
“Did the dog get one?”
Sam held his breath to let Harrison answer.
“She did. Sam finished another off, and I took care of two.”
“Army man,” she snorted. “I’m glad you did, but it’s time for you to leave Horner’s Rest. Write me next spring before you return, and I’ll tell you if it is safe to visit us again.”
Harrison broke into a smile. “I will, Milla.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I wanted to say goodbye.”
“My kiss is holding your wound together,” she said, laughing. “You better go now. I don’t want any more business today.”
Harrison bowed to Milla as he stood. “Next year, hopefully.”
“Hopefully,” she said.
~
Harrison fashioned a pollen cover and a wide umbrella over them as they trundled to the next village with two horses now pulling the wagon. Emmy, tired from a full day of travel, snuggled her head close to Sam’s while she sat in the back. Bagbox didn’t send any more thugs to their deaths. Perhaps four dead was enough for the would-be Lord of Horner’s Rest.
The
wagon slipped a bit on a steep part, so with night falling, Harrison turned down a mining road, as he called it, and found a clearing suitable for the night.
“I’m afraid we will eat a cold dinner,” the healer said.
“It is better than not being able to eat like our attackers,” Sam said.
“I agree. I wouldn’t trade positions with them, right now. You performed well, for your first fight, from what glances I could spare to look your way.”
“I concentrated on saving Emmy, more than myself,” Sam said. “So I would count the fight as a victory.”
“A victory can be defined as ‘we breathe, they don’t’ after a battle,” Harrison said. “I’ll be sending another letter at the next village. I don’t think ‘Lord Bagbox’ will rule Horner’s Rest by winter.”
“You have that much power?”
Harrison laughed. “Me? Not at all. In a sense, I am a snitch. I will definitely be snitching on Bagbox. Others have the power to take care of the man. Baskin doesn’t want petty lords setting up unauthorized fiefdoms in Toraltia. Even town lords like Lenny aren’t immune from removal if they go too far.”
“Why didn’t you take care of Bagbox yourself? You were much better than any of our foes.”
“If I did that, I wouldn’t be able to return. I showed Bagbox my teeth, so if he is there next summer, I won’t be visiting Horner’s Rest. If I burn too many bridges, my little job goes away, and I like my little job. Let’s talk about herbs after we’ve set up camp.” He ducked to look out from under the umbrella that Sam couldn’t see. “It looks like the showers have passed.”
“The ground is still wet,” Sam said.
“Then we sleep in the back with Emmy tonight. Grab your notebook and let’s get to work on herbology before it gets dark. I think we’ve had enough sword practice for the day.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
~
S AM WAS SURPRISED THAT RIVERVILLE ROSE FROM THE MIDDLE of a valley, clinging to a long, steep slope as it rose to overlook the small river filled with rocks and rapids that marked the boundary of a settlement much larger than Horner’s Rest. They crossed a stone bridge and stopped at an inn a third of a way to the top of the rise. Unlike Horner’s Rest, Riverville sported a twenty-foot wall, wide enough for guards to walk on the top.
“Is this village threatened often?” Sam asked as they gathered their things to take inside the stone-built inn. Sam looked up at the three stories above him. It was as big as any inn in Cherryton.
“Wolves, sometimes,” Harrison said. “The animal kind and the Gruellian kind. This is the closest we get to the northern border on this trip. There is an army post and a constabulary office of some size in the village, which actually is not that much smaller than Cherryton.”
They walked into the inn. The innkeeper recognized Harrison. “Mr. Dimple, has it been a year already?”
“Indeed it has, Varley. A little larger room, this time. I brought along a helper and his dog.”
“No dogs inside,” the innkeeper said.
“Emmy can sleep with the horses, or underneath the wagon,” Sam said.
“That’s good enough for me. You’ll have to tie her up, though.”
Sam nodded, but he was worried about cruel stable hands.
“Wagon with two horses and a dog,” Harrison said. “Two beds and a table large enough for us both to write.”
The innkeeper nodded and took Harrison’s money. They found their room, but Harrison told Sam not to lie down. “Three courtesy visits before you can rest. The fort, the constabulary, and the best healer in Riverville.”
After securing the room, Harrison led Sam out to the stable where they tied Emmy to the wagon, giving her lots of rope.
“Get ready to walk. The fort is at the top of the village.”
The people of Riverville didn’t look as open or as friendly, but Sam instantly noticed that few wore pollen clothes. He asked Harrison about it.
“We are at a higher elevation in Riverville than Horner’s Rest or the other villages we will visit, so it is colder. Pollen-cloth isn’t as warm as natural fibers,” Harrison said smiling.
The roads steepened, and the houses were built in level rows, terraced to overlook the valley. They were much different from the Horner’s Rest cottages. Sam wouldn’t have thought there would be that much contrast between the two places.
“People build according to their needs. Those who live in Riverville want to live here. If they don’t like the cold or the steep lanes, they move to other villages, by and large.”
“Then why a constabulary?”
“Winters can be a little confining,” Harrison said, smiling. “When there is confinement, there is a lot of drinking. It’s worse here because Riverville can be snowed in.”
The walking took its toll on both of them, so Sam concentrated on keeping his breath, and Harrison did the same. They came to a stone wall. Sam looked up and saw that it was part of the city’s defense.
“This is the fort. It was here first, and the village followed once people found coal and other things in mines, hereabouts. The village flowed down from around the fort all the way to the river.”
Sam could see that as he turned and looked over the rooftops. Harrison opened a man-door in the gate and held it open for Sam to go on ahead. The courtyard of the fort had a cluster of soldiers going through drills. They wore bits and pieces of uniforms, along with civilian clothes. Their efforts didn’t look especially disciplined.
He looked at the healer, who didn’t look any more impressed than he was.
“An acquaintance runs the fort,” Harrison said, as he walked to a two-story structure built right against the wall.
Sam noticed other soldiers sitting around. “Easy duty?” he said.
“For now, but if there were a major incursion into Toraltia by one of the Gruellian tribes, this fort would be the first to fall. Don’t think the soldiers aren’t aware of that.”
That was enough for Sam to think about as Harrison walked through a door into an office of soldiers who abruptly stopped talking when they entered. A few of the soldiers had their uniform tunics unbuttoned. Sam had had a different impression of army life from the books he had read. Evidently, the soldiers in the Riverville fort hadn’t read the same books he had.
“Captain Rangerfield in?” Harrison asked.
“He is. You can knock and go in.”
Sam followed Harrison into a large office. The captain’s desk was more orderly than the ones out front.
“Harrison,” Rangerfield said saluting as he scrambled to this feet. “I expected you in a few more days.”
“My schedule moved up in Mountain View and in Horner’s Rest. Here I am. Anything to report?”
Report? To Harrison? Sam looked at the healer with surprise.
“Who is the wide-eyed kid?” Rangerfield said, looking at Sam.
“My helper. We’ve shared a few unexpected adventures this trip.”
“Have a seat,” the captain said as he sat down himself. “The border is quiet right now except for some active wolf packs. They got a shepherd a few weeks ago and scared off the flock.”
“How far away?”
“Half a day directly north, pretty close to the border.”
“Mind if I poke around?”
“Polite as usual. Be my guest, Harrison. Do you need an escort?”
“Is Bacon still running the constabulary?”
Rangerfield shook his head. “He died six weeks ago. A man from Baskin has been on the job for ten days. He is on temporary duty to see if any of the constables are fit enough to take over.”
“I’ll ask for some constables to come with us. It might be good for the Baskin man to see some of his men in the field.”
“Take at least two of my better soldiers. They need to work.”
“Will do. I’ll get a message sent when I’m ready to go. It won’t be tomorrow. Is that all?”
Rangerfield nodded and stood up. “I am here to serve,”
he said.
Harrison gave the man a smile. “I know. I’ll check in before I leave.”
The pair walked out of the fort.
“He saluted you!” Sam said.
“I retired from the army with a reasonably high rank.”
“But I thought you worked for the Health Ministry.”
“I do that, too,” Harrison said. “As I said, I get paid for keeping my eyes open, a bit from the army, a bit from the Health Ministry, and a bit from the constabulary. I consider my primary job helping folks get better. All this other stuff is secondary.”
Sam could believe that since Harrison spent most of fall, winter, and spring in his cottage outside of Cherryton. He wondered how the ‘Baskin man’ would treat Harrison when they showed up unannounced at the constabulary.
They reached the constabulary midway down the village. The building was every bit as big as the one in Cherryton. They walked in.
“Mister Dimple,” the constable at a high desk in a small entry hall said as they entered. “It is good to see you again, sir.” Harrison got another salute. Unlike the constable in Horner’s Rest, this one knew the healer. “We have a temporary chief. Bacon died, and Baskin brought in someone to see how things are going here.”
“Is he going to pick you, Packer?”
“Me?” the constable blushed. “Oh, no, sir. I’m no good leading, but I’m a great follower.”
“Every constabulary needs great followers,” Harrison said. “Could you fetch the Baskin man?”
“Yes, sir,” Packer said, leaving them alone in the small entry hall.
A man with a huge mustache that nearly drooped down to his jaw walked in. He looked very fit, but he was shorter, stockier, and older than Harrison.
“You are Harrison Dimple?” Sam sensed an undercurrent in the Chief Constables words. He seemed to know his partner
The healer nodded.
The man saluted. “I am pleased to meet you, Colonel. Faddon Bentwick at your service, Chief Constable of the Investigative Unit of the Royal Constabulary.”
