by M. S. Brook
Uncle Fergal dismounted, removed his helmet, and knelt by the stone markers. When he rose and turned back to us, his broad mouth was set in a grim line. “We will deal with those responsible for this, but our first duty is to the living. The dead didn’t dig their own graves.”
So we waited, but not a single survivor came out of hiding. It was no surprise that they’d be frightened of us, not after the punishment they’d taken at the hand of Saduk’s raiders. I wondered how we could show that we didn’t intend to harm them. And then a new thought flashed into my head. What if a woman approached them? Would that disarm them? I thought about it for a while and then mentioned it to Arvel.
“Captain Ardleigh might go for it,” Arvel said. “He doesn’t have many choices right now.”
I approached my uncle and quietly spoke to him. “Captain, may I have permission to ask a question?”
He gave me a patient smile. “Permission granted.”
“I had a thought, sir. What if I take off my helmet and ride over to the edge of the woods? If anyone’s in there, they’ll see that I’m a woman. Maybe they won’t be afraid to come out and talk to me.”
Uncle Fergal wiped the sweat out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “That’s all very well unless they decide to come after you. We wouldn’t be able to protect you.” He shook his head. “Far too risky.”
“With respect, Captain, I don’t think the settlers would attack a lone woman.”
“As you well know, I can’t put you in that kind of danger. You’re with us only as a healer.”
“Yes, sir. I could present myself to them as a healer come to help them.”
Uncle Fergal’s pale brows shifted into a thoughtful frown. “No one could ever accuse you of giving up easily!” He stared at the tree line for a moment. “But you may have something at that. Here’s what we’ll do. Arvel, Torin, and I will accompany you. We will position ourselves between you and the edge of the woods. You will not dismount, and you will keep your helmet on and your shield up at all times. You can call out to them all you like. Tell them we’ve come to help them, but mind you, at the first sign of trouble, you and Arvel will hightail it out of there. I’ll have Azar bring the patrol closer, ready to ride in if we need them.”
“But sir, they have to feel free.”
“It’s the best I can do. I’m under orders to keep you safe, and more importantly, I have your father to answer to. You will have to trust me as much as I am about to trust you.”
“Very well, sir,” I said before he could change his mind. “I’ll do exactly as you say.”
Without haste, the four of us walked our horses up the hill to the edge of the forest. I wished I could take off my helmet for even a minute. The afternoon was warm, and though my hair was tied back, escaping ringlets stuck to my face and neck in the still closeness.
At the edge of the woods, Uncle Fergal did a sharp look about. All was quiet, but for the birds singing in the trees. A curious squirrel dropped the pinecone it was working on. The cone rattled from branch to branch and made a soft landing on fallen pine needles, startling the birds into flight. And then it was quiet again. Uncle Fergal gave me a nod. My turn.
I began by calling out in a loud voice, “Halloo, Evergreen! We’re Canwyrs come to help you. Don’t be afraid. We’re from the Royal Guardians. We are not your enemy. Come out and let us help you.”
The dark forest remained quiet, unmoved by my urging. I shielded my eyes from the sun and tried to peer in, but the foliage was dense and shadowy.
I tried again. “I am a healer. I can help you with your injured folk. Come out and let us give you aid.” We walked our horses up and down the tree line, and I called out my message many times, but the woods remained silent. It wasn’t working, but I felt we had to keep trying. I looked at Uncle Fergal. “We can’t stop. If anyone’s in there, they’ll need our help.”
He nodded.
Absently, I tugged on the chain around my neck. My shining pendant was safe in its hiding place under my padded shirt, but an answer for how to reach the Evergreens was not so easy to find.
Arvel took his eyes off the woods for a moment and said to me, “Maybe instead of telling them you’re a healer, you could show them.”
“But…they’re hiding. How can I show them?”
“Why not sing over them even though you can’t see them?”
“It doesn’t work like that. How can I sing them to health, when I can’t see what’s making them ill?”
Arvel’s forehead wrinkled. “Too deep for me. I’d best go back to what I’m good at and leave the dreamsong to you.”
Arvel said it without criticism, but his question and my own glib answer made me think. Dreamsong wasn’t about knowing what was wrong with someone; it was about seeing the truth of what a person was inside and calling them to that place. I closed my eyes and quieted my mind, noticing for the first time that a breeze had picked up and was stirring the treetops. The sultry air was redolent with the spicy scent of pines and rich, loamy earth. The goodness and beauty of the land filled my senses. Evergreen began to call to something deep inside of me that I didn’t understand.
I opened my eyes and looked at the vast green forest, backed by an endless sky of blue. Behind us the sun scattered flecks of gold on the broad expanse of river. The breezes brushed through the lush grasses along the banks. I breathed in the steamy warmth and reveled in the touch of the wind on my face, soaking in the wonder of it—but even in the midst of such beauty, something rankled, something that did not belong. I turned away from the river and looked toward the settlement. Darkling shadows brooded over the ruins like inky blots on the pages of a beautifully penned manuscript, obscuring the meaning of the writer. I could sense the killing and treachery that hung over the land, marring the peace that should have been.
How could beauty and destruction occupy the same sky? It was like sickness invading a healthy body. As I pondered, the understanding awakened in me. It wasn’t just the people who needed healing. It was as if the earth itself cried for help. My heart yearned to see the land set to rights again, to heal what was broken and destroyed, to recover what was lost. But what song was I to sing? Did I sing to heal the fear and pain of the settlement, or did I sing to the goodness and beauty still evident in the earth? The answer came in a whisper, that quiet voice in my heart.
“Choose the prospect you would see.”
I closed my eyes to the shadows and sought Evergreen with my heart. As I waited, a sound began to rumble in the earth beneath me, a sound that was deep and ancient, like an echo from long ago. I set my heart to hear it, humming a few sweet notes. I sang a bit more, and the song became clearer.
“Evergreen, your dreams are calling,
Come and listen, hear your song.
Though your beauty to darkness has fallen,
Sunlight and promise will once again dawn…”
The more I sang, the more the song came to me. I sang until the song penetrated my heart, until the torment of the land must flee, until the dark clouds of fear and despair, of blood and death, must blow away before the fierce breath of my song. I sang as if I could sing Evergreen back to life, and the more I sang, the more I believed it. And the more I knew it was true, the more irresistibly beautiful the song became.
I might have been lost forever in that sparkling cascade of song, the notes and words tumbling over each other in their eagerness to be free, but the sound of a small child crying broke through and brought me to myself.
Branches rustled. The three men with me twitched, hands ready at their weapons. A young woman, holding a crying child, came stumbling out of the thicket. I looked at my uncle, who anticipated my request to dismount. “Wait until we’re sure it’s safe,” he said in a low voice.
I motioned for the young woman to come to me. She gave a sidelong look at the men and scurried over to me. I touched her shoulder, feeling h
er shudder with sobs. The child put out his hands, and I took him in my arms and crooned the song over him like a lullaby. He watched my face and stopped crying. Still keeping one eye on the woods, Arvel rustled in his saddlebags and found bread and cheese. The boy crammed it into his mouth, his grimy face opening in a huge grin.
A cautious trickle of Dominians began to come out of the woods—mostly women and children at first, dressed in dirty, dull clothing. A few men came too, some carrying their wounded friends. Before long, a crowd with desperate faces had gathered in front of us. They reminded me of nervous deer, dark eyes wide, half poised to flee.
“Please don’t be afraid of us,” I said. “We’re here to help you.”
The Dominians made way for a white-haired man to stand before me, his clothing stained with dirt and dried blood, his face exhausted and flat. He bowed with quiet dignity. “I am Jaron, elder of Evergreen. Do you speak the truth? Will you help my people?”
My uncle indicated with a nod that I was to answer. I met the elder’s gaze. “That is why we have come—this is Captain Fergal Ardleigh. He will know what to do.”
The men greeted each other, and Sergeant Azar signaled for the rest of the patrol to join us. At Uncle Fergal’s order, they put up their weapons.
“We have much to speak of,” Uncle Fergal said to the elder, “but first we must get your people fed and the wounded cared for. Where is the best place to set up a temporary camp?”
The elder’s eyes passed over our patrol; each Guardian was empty-handed in spite of our being far outnumbered. He seemed to make a decision to trust us. “The raiders plugged up our wells, so we’d best go down by the river for access to water,” he said. “There’s a shady bend just below the settlement where the ferries used to dock. We wash our clothing and bathe there.”
“Good. We need all able bodies to help.” Uncle Fergal turned to Sergeants Azar and Torin, “Get organized quickly—I want scouts posted right away. Then put together work parties—settlers with Guardians. We need fishermen and hunters. Older men and children can collect firewood and salvage anything that survived the fire, especially cooking pots and tools. The women can help Aidriana and Arvel with the wounded and with cooking. Tell your men to drop their bedrolls and food supplies for use as needed—make sure everyone has a bite from our dry stores before they start work. Anything I missed?” He paused, glancing up at the mid-afternoon sun. “Right then, let’s get moving. Lots to do before nightfall.”
Even as we set to work, more settlers emerged from the woods, most of them men armed with swords and hefty cudgels. They’d waited to see which way the wind blew before joining us and seemed willing to go to work along with the rest.
We gathered the wounded into three groups in order of severity. They sat or lay in a shady area by the bank of the River Plevin. The women helped them clean up and took their filthy clothes to wash downstream. I went to the most seriously injured, who were lying on the bedrolls we’d collected. A thin Dominian with long black hair and beard followed me.
“My name is Linden,” he said. “I’m the one they come to when they’re sick. I do what I can for them.”
“I would be grateful for your help, Linden.” I knelt beside the first man. He was rolling his head from side to side, muttering under his breath. “Bram, my little Bram…is he all right? Is my baby safe?” The man’s wife held his hand, trying to comfort him, her silent tears splashing down on his blanket. Trembling and feverish from a deep wound in his stomach, he couldn’t hear her telling him that Bram was fine.
With shaking hands, I dug in my bag for tincture of poppies. I put a few drops inside his cheek, and he quieted down a little, his breathing eased. We washed and dressed his wound, giving what relief we could.
The next man’s sword arm was severed just above the elbow. He was mercifully unaware of his surroundings, moaning softly while I examined him. The stump was crusted with dried blood and dirt, the upper arm, pale and bloated with angry red streaks reaching up his arm. We cleansed the wound, and I did what I could to make him comfortable.
Linden, my Dominian helper, said, “His name is Tal. After the attack, he screamed all night long. It was terrible! We had nothing to give him, no way to help him. Finally, he passed out. He’s been like this ever since.”
“Looks like he’ll soon join his wife and little girls,” said another one of my helpers. “We buried them yesterday.”
I swallowed the sick feeling rising in my throat. “I wish I could do more for him…I’ll see to the other urgent cases and then come back. Maybe I can find a song for him.” But I wondered if I’d be able to sing in the midst of such suffering.
I moved on to the next one and the next. In all, there were nine with terrible injuries. If one of them lived to see morning light, I would be surprised. It was just as well that I was kept too busy to think about it.
The last of the fallen was a woman. Linden said she’d shielded her child with her own body, taking a deep sword-thrust in her side. Blood bubbled on her lips with each labored breath she took. I lifted the blanket. She did not respond to my touch. “It won’t be long,” I said. “She’s past her suffering now.”
I sat beside her and pushed through my sad, fearful thoughts. A restful song was waiting on the other side. I sang it over her, watching her breathing become more peaceful. I left her in the care of her sister, who cuddled a sleeping child in her arms. “Is that the child?” I asked Linden.
“Yes…she saved him.”
We moved on to the less severely injured, binding their wounds, rubbing on salves and ointments. At least here we could hope for better outcomes.
When it became too dark to do anything else, we stopped for a meager supper. Arvel and I ate with the young man who’d been so helpful to me. He told us more about the attack.
“It came at twilight,” Linden said, “while families were eating their evening meal. We heard the sound of galloping horses and ran outside, but it was too late. The Bezarq war band was upon us. They said nothing to us—gave us no chance to surrender. They just set out to destroy the settlement. They torched the grain fields that surround the village and then shot fiery arrows into the barns and houses.”
“Did you try to defend yourselves?” asked Arvel.
“We well know what Bezarqs are like,” Linden said. “Most of us just fled into the woods. Those men who stayed to fight were slaughtered, and along with them, their women and children. Even the animals were not spared. The rest of us spent a terrified night in the forest. At daybreak a few of us went back to spy on the settlement, but there was nothing to see, just ashes and blackened stones. We searched for food, but the Bezarqs had burned everything. So we buried our dead and spent another hopeless night in the forest.”
Linden took a sip from the cup he was sharing with Arvel. “The next day we saw your patrol arrive and our terror was renewed. I’ve seen enough to know that you are here to help us, but many are still fearful. I can see it in their eyes.”
“What about your family, Linden?” I asked. “Are they all right?”
“My family is back in Domaine. They sent me here because the Bezarqs would press me into Lord Saduk’s service if I stayed. But it looks like I’m not safe here either.”
“That will change,” I said to him. “This is our land, and we will not forget what Saduk did here. Not until he pays in full.”
“We won’t forget either. You had mercy on us when our own countrymen had none.”
Chapter 18
I awoke to the sound of smothered weeping in the captain’s tent. I’d hardly slept, not after carrying two lifeless bodies outside the tent a few hours earlier. Five others had not made it to nightfall yesterday, and now it was little Bram’s father. His wife was bent over him, sobbing. With the aid of a quarter moon, Arvel, Linden, and I laid him next to the other two and covered him with a blanket until morning.
I took o
ver Linden’s watch in the tent. Only one of the severely wounded Dominians—the man with the severed arm—was still with us. The lantern was lit, and I used it to check on him. His family would not mourn him when he passed. He was found lying on their lifeless bodies, left for dead by the Blackcoats. He’d never opened his eyes for us, but he was moaning and restless. I dropped tincture of poppies into his cheek and watched him settle down. More to comfort myself than for any other reason, I started humming what I remembered of the Song of Evergreen. Was it only a day ago that I’d sung it? I watched his chest rise and fall and slowly sang over him.
Day broke, and Linden came through the tent flap. “I’ll stay with him. Please get something to eat and take a rest.”
One of the Dominian women filled my cup from a pot of simmering fish broth. I sipped it as I walked back to the tent, savoring the few small pieces of fish at the bottom of the cup.
I went back to the care of our wounded, secretly wishing I could lie down on the grass beside them.
“You’ve hardly slept,” Arvel said. “Why don’t you lie down in the tent for a few hours? I’ll keep an eye out.”
I followed his advice and stumbled into the tent. “I’m just taking a short nap,” I said to Linden, but it wasn’t long before I was out of the tent again, awakened by shouting.
“What’s happening?” I asked Arvel.
“One of their milk cows wandered back. The Evergreens want to roast it, but we stopped them. There’s been quite a fight over it.”
Arvel and I walked over to where a small crowd had gathered, and I heard Uncle Fergal say, “The cow stays! Everyone needs to settle down and go back to work.”
“You just want her for yourself!” a woman shouted.
I was sure Uncle Fergal wasn’t used to being spoken to in that manner, but he remained calm. “The milk will be kept for children and nursing mothers only. Elder Jaron can have her guarded if need be.”
There was grumbling among the Evergreens, but they did go back to work. We watched Elder Jaron bring the cow to the shady grass near the captain’s tent and tie her to a tree.
