by Rex Sumner
Images of her dancing with the bear raced across Susan’s mind, culminating in a duet with two upturned heads crooning to the stars.
“Nooooo!” She cried out, jumping forward to stand between the bear and the hunters. “She is my friend, do not hurt her. She can stay with me, or I will take her back into the forest.” Susan stood with her arms spread wide, her back to the bear and blocking the view of the bowmen, who lowered their arrows, brows furrowing.
The bear stopped roaring. This strange creature did not smell of elf, the enemy, but of bear, of she-bear, herself to be exact and reminded her of her cub. She shuffled forward and sniffed Susan’s back, standing up on her hind legs and licking the back of her neck, blowing hard as she did so.
In the trees, the elves watched in wonder, Fainche’s fingers digging deep and painful into Laoire’s arm. She must be a fairy, to so enchant the monster of the forest, the nightmare of the night.
The she-bear grunted at the taste of Susan, and the peculiar smell. This thing was not her cub. The giant wolf in her brain bit again, chewing in a steady, grinding pulse. She roared once more, in anger and agony, and smashed her right paw into Susan’s shoulder, sending her flying across the glade to slam into a tree and oblivion with a sickening thud.
*
Susan floated, alone in an orange sea, a rough, swirling orange sea with waves that lapped over her, every now and then submerging her head to intensify the pain, the orange pain, her world. Too much pain, and she sank beneath the waves.
Three times she awoke to float through the sea of pain, three times she sank beneath the unbearable agony.
On the fourth occasion, the waves abated, and she saw an island, a little green island. She floated to the island and the sea ebbed away, leaving her aching on a green sand beach, every muscle and bone crying out in protest till she slept again.
She dreamed, not about pain. Something big, old and black, wise and gentle. She could feel it, no, him, sniffing her.
‘Come to me,’ came a voice in her head.
‘Fiotr?’ Dream Susan spoke in confusion. ‘Where do I come? How do I go there?’ But the dragon didn’t answer.
The fifth time of waking came with cold and wet, her legs raised in the air and something moving on her bottom. She tried to scream as horror washed up her throat in a foul geyser of memories she thought long buried, and her matted eyes cracked open. A gasp, weak and whispery, came from her abused mouth, while green filled her vision with whirling shapes from which she could make nothing. A sound beat her ears, noise chuntering away, and she realised somebody spoke in Elvish. She concentrated, and the words became clear.
“Can you hear me, love? Nod if you can. I know you’re awake. Come on, other leg, must get you clean this time, maybe next time you are well enough not to need cleaning, hey? Did you hear me? Nod when you do. Ah! That’s good. My names Muireann, I’m one of the healers. Well, an apprentice really, that’s why they have me cleaning you. There we go, all done, nice and clean. Hang on while I change the bowl and I’ll do your face.”
She could hear clanking and a door opened; in the distance water gushing and a bird called nearby. Footsteps came back and the bed sank by her head. She gasped as a pain struck her shoulder. A damp cloth brushed her face, rubbing at her eyes and the gummy residue eased away, allowing her eyes to open. A few blinks and the room swam into focus. The green persisted, sunlight coming through the leaves of the window. A young Elven girl smiling at her.
“There we are! You can see me now. You are probably in a bit of pain, that’s to be expected. You’ve been asleep for nearly a week, so you’ll be hungry, I’m sure. Here’s a sip of water, and in a moment I’ll get you some nice soup, pumpkin with a bit of marrow to thicken it.”
Susan panicked at the thought of raising her head, her shoulder crying out in agony at the very thought, but the girl pushed a tube into her mouth, a reed. She sucked and cool water poured into her mouth, easing the dryness and the sticky back of her teeth. With her tongue she checked them, all still there, not even a wobble. She tried to remember what happened, but wasn’t even sure of her name.
As if reading her thoughts, the Elf rested one hand on her forehead and held her wrist with another, fingers spread to read the different pulses.
“You’re doing fine, my girl. In case you wonder, you are in the healing tree and you’ve been here these last five days. We kept you asleep to speed the repair. Nasty break in your arm, and your shoulder joint came apart as well, so we had a bit of a time putting that together again. The worst came from the wounds in your back. The bear’s claws slashed you open, two deep and one shallow slash, and I don’t know what that bear had been doing, but you took a nasty infection. The fever took you hard, you haven’t eaten for all this time. We cut the wound and drained it yesterday and the fever broke early this morning. That’s why you are thirsty now, my girl, and you’ll be hungry too or I am no judge. Right, you’ve finished this water, enough for now, I’ll get you some soup.”
Susan tried to protest, but Muireann left without looking back. She tried to take stock. Her whole shoulder throbbed, a mass of pain, especially on her back. Her whole body ached, to a lesser degree. What happened? Why was she here? Speaking Elvish? Bit by bit, events floated into her mind, and she relaxed as she became aware of herself and her history. Noises came to her, with awareness she was not alone. At least two other people in the room, and the one behind her moaned.
She tried to sit up and turn around, hissing in pain as she did so. Relapsing, she considered the problem and found her left arm worked fine. She used it to lever herself up into a sitting position, taking a moment to get her balance, and pushing the blanket down, only to recover it on realising she wore nothing underneath. Twisting her body was impossible, but she could tilt her head a little and peer from the corner of her eyes. Two bodies in beds, with an empty bed between her and them.
The nearer body moaned again, thrashing with slow, desperate movement. She couldn’t see his face, enveloped in a poultice, made from spider web and moss, she thought, and gleaming. The sight brought her attention to a sweet smell in the room, and she recognised a honey poultice, to draw out infection. She thought it probable there was one on her back as well.
She wondered what happened to his face, and turned her attention to the second body, unmoving, with a mass of long blonde hair.
The door opened and Muireann entered, bearing a bowl with a wisp of steam coming from the top. She raised an eyebrow.
“My, aren’t we adventurous. Sitting up already. Well, I shall place this soup on the table here, and we’ll let it cool a little more. Do you want to try and feed yourself? Yes? Fine, I’ll check on you in a moment but first I must see to these poor dears.”
She moved to the first, still giving slights thrashes in his pain, and rested a forefinger on his poultice before cupping her hands a fingerspan from his face. Susan felt something as he quieted and guessed the healer used magic. She raised her eyebrows in query and Muireann noticed.
“Only a small magic. I gave him some energy and it helped. I’ll teach you if you like, it’s easy and you can help your own injuries to heal.” She bustled over to the last body, running her hand up the neck and nodding. She came back to Susan, removed the spoon from her hand which didn’t seem to work and fed her. The soup slid down her throat like ambrosia and Susan purred with pleasure. She found her voice.
“Who are they? What happened?”
“Couple of lads from the village who’ve been silly. This one and his friend tried to hunt a bear on their own. He’ll be lucky if he still has a face, but the bear killed his friend. That one fell out of a tree, trying to catch a bird for his girlfriend. Bad fall, lot of broken bones. He’s in a healing trance and will stay in it for another week.”
“Bear? Not my bear?”
“Your bear, is it? No, another one. The hunters killed your bear, quick as a wink, you were the only one
hurt. Now, what’s this? Why the tears, little one?” Alarmed, Muireann tried to collect the tears with the spoon, to Susan’s annoyance and she brushed the spoon and tears away.
“I’m human. We cry a lot. She was my friend. We danced together. I only needed a moment alone with her and she would remember.”
“Tsk. It was a bear, not a person, dear. Yes, they are clever and we respect them, but they don’t love us. We have an agreement with them, see. If they interfere, we eat them and the other way round too. That’s why that one is lucky to be alive, and still he faces an awkward interview with the Elders when he’s better. Now, do you want to know how long you’ll be here?”
“You know?”
“Of course. While you were asleep, we made you swallow plenty of bone knit tea and we’ll have the plaster off tomorrow. You must be careful for a week, no hard exercise or work. Your shoulder takes longer, the soft parts take a month to mend, while your back with the scratches is healing now. We just want to observe you for another day, then you can go home.”
“Home? I’m healed? So fast?”
“Fast? It’s normal, you’ve been here nearly a week. Fever lasted longer than I thought, that’s why.”
“But broken bones take ages to heal, and then usually crooked… don’t they?”
“I can’t think why. Perhaps you don’t have bone knit where you have been. It’s my favourite plant. I make a thick plaster from the roots and leaves, harvested any time of year. Wrap that all round the break after you put it back together and it holds it in place while mending. I make the tea from the flowers and young leaves, so I can only harvest them in summer and autumn. Of course it wouldn’t work without the spells, they go together. Now, enough of this, I have work to do. Tomorrow before you leave, you must speak to the temple guardian to arrange payment.”
“Payment?”
“For the healing, love. Hope you have something valuable to trade, as she’ll want a lot. You’ve been here a week, nearly, and we used a lot of magic on you.”
With this cheering thought, she took the empty bowl and left.
Susan lay back down on the bed, something nagging at her memories. Something else had happened, she should remember. She shut out the sound of the bear-bitten man moaning, and replayed the evening. She remembered finding the Goibhniu, and the world going crazy.
Gods, something about Gods. Oh, yes, she remembered, with a tingle of pleasure, the Gods visited her and found her desirable. She remembered the pleasure, the wonder of coupling with a God, and her thoughts moved on, to the return and the words of Fionuir.
She sat bolt upright in the bed, oblivious of the jolt of pain.
Not Gods. She had been tricked. Tricked in the most base, underhand manner. She buried her face in her hands, going scarlet with embarrassment. What would people think? Oh, no, first Oengus, now these dreadful men taking advantage of her high on the Goibhniu.
She lay on the bed and wept in the tatters of her reputation.
Knives
Lionel lay on his horse’s neck, soaking up a bit of warmth while his back froze. Bloody country, the far mountain peaks gleamed in the still air, white and frigid. The argument as to whether this was the fabled snow had raged all day, and earlier hopes to ride that way dropped faster than the temperature. The horses suffered as well, not enjoying the constant slopes, the temperature and the poor grazing. Half the time the lancers spent on foot, as much to keep warm as to spare the horses.
Coming down the ridge, they entered a forest of pines, welcome relief from the relentless icy winds. Lionel sighed, wondering if he should send back some men for supplies and warm coats. Not even a sign of habitation. Jez and Matt started swearing up ahead, where all the front riders crawled on the ground. He toed his horse forward.
“What’s up?”
“Fucking stupid trees. These blasted needles everywhere, not a track to be found. They could scatter and we won’t know.” Jez scratched his head while Matt cast around in a circle, getting wider.
“Follow the path, put trackers down any other path that appears and we’ll patrol the edge of the forest when we find it.”
“This fucking thing probably stretches all the way to the edge of the world.”
“Jez, what do you make of this?” Matt called from the edge of the obvious trail.
The trackers converged on him, pointing to a tiny broken twig on a trunk, almost hidden in a mass of fresh needles.
“Old,” said Jez in frustration. “No fresh wood, could have been a year ago.”
“Don’t reckon, mate,” said another tracker feeling the break. “See the sharp edge? Old wood, broken last night or yesterday, I reckon. These pines are different from our trees, different colour.”
“Oh, you little beauty,” said Jez, breathing a sigh of relief. “She’s marking the trail. Come on lads, now we know what to look for.”
“Wouldn’t it be more obvious,” said Lionel, who couldn’t even see the break. “Surely she would want to make certain we didn’t miss it?”
“Yeah, and her bloody Spakka will help, won’t he? Don’t be dense.”
The trackers ranged ahead now, and one shouted from a couple of hundred paces up the trail. “Here’s another one. Hidden again.”
Progress slowed, but it was progress and they emerged from the forest in the late afternoon, having found the odd marker, some far apart. For the first time the trackers found tracks, and Matt reported to Lionel as he arrived.
“Lost about half of them, gone in the forest, but the princess is still here.”
“Can we find their trails?”
Matt scratched his beard, casting his eyes along the forest edge.
“Could be, but not worth it. Let’s find the princess and get somewhere warm, fast.”
“We have to think about the girls, can’t let Kingdom girls be taken like that. Jez! No, I don’t want to know what you think. Now, could it be that the princess is not with this group but spirited away and these signs are from somebody else?”
Jez turned away muttering about the girls, but Matt answered, almost succeeding in keeping a smirk from his face.
“Unlikely, boss. Always twigs, that a girl can break, never something too big. All at the right height, always where a branch has to be pushed out of the way so it isn’t noticeable. The break direction is important, and that is a Pathfinders trick.”
“Lionel, I spoke to one of the wagon drivers back at Sarl when we came through.” Robbie spoke, deep in thought. “He told me these people are always raiding across the frontier, stealing girls and sheep. Both sides do it.”
“Probably prefer the sheep, prettier,” said Jez, coming back into the conversation.
“So what?” Lionel managed to keep a straight face.
“So the girls may be used to it, and if we can find a village later, we can ask about the girls.”
“Oh, so you want us to walk into a village, have a drink in the pub and a sing-song with the local militia?”
“Locals are pretty spread out; unlikely they could get up a force enough to worry us.”
“Daylights wasting, let’s get after her.” Impatient, Jez rode off, down the trail.
Lionel hesitated. “Robbie, I need patrols out anyway. Four different patrols, one each way down the side of the forest, see what they find, and one each side of us, check out the country.”
Robbie nodded and dropped back, selecting troopers for the patrols.
*
Sitting with his back to a small fire, careful to retain his night vision, Lionel sipped a warming broth made by shaving dried meat into a mug. Movement at the edge of his vision indicated the last patrol’s return, and shortly a trooper with a shock of blonde hair and an open, guileless face sat down opposite, accepting a hot mug of tea from Jeremy.
“Any sign, Danny?”
Danny scratched his chest, a
puzzled expression on his face.
“We found a trail out of the forest, one set of tracks. Followed them down into a vale, pretty little thing with a stream and bloody sheep everywhere. Big things with horns and black faces. There was a shack in the middle, by the stream, with a pony grazing in a meadow nearby. As we rode up, this man came out, no weapons. He was bringing turf into the house for some reason. He stopped still at the sight of us, lances levelled at him.” Danny sighed and sipped his tea, making a face.
“Asked if he spoke Harrhein, and he nodded. Told him he was a fucking slaver and we were going to hang him, we’d trailed him all the way from Hardenwall. He went white, backed up a step and this girl ran out of the hut and stood in front of him.”
Danny paused, shaking his head.
“Told me to fuck off, she did. Said they were going to be married, and I was a bloody foreigner who didn’t understand anything. This was the way they did it on the frontier. He was a good man and he would fight for the king if asked.”
“This is a fool’s quest. We might as well pack up and go home if they are all busy shagging them already.” Jeremy poked at the fire, watching a dried fungus burn, in the forlorn hope in might be hallucinogenic.
“We still need to find the princess. King won’t be too happy if we lose her. Anything else, Danny?”
“This Spakka has the princess. He don’t speak with them much. Hasn’t hurt her, busy teaching her Spakka. He was happy to tell me what he knew, which wasn’t much. All the Uightlanders are heading for their own steadings, and the Spakka has nowhere to go. There’s Uightlanders heading home all over the hills, it seems. They reckon they were saving people from the Spakka while pretending to fight with them.”
“Yeah, right,” said Jeremy. “Any opportunity to fight, that lot.”
“The girl told me not to worry about the women. But she worries about the princess. They don’t trust the Spakka.”
Danny finished his tea and headed back to his camp-site. They could hear him arguing with Robbie that he shouldn’t stand a watch after the patrol.
