‘Good boy Nugget,’ he murmured and then used the horse to measure how wide the path actually needed to be to turn the corners. With the wagon in mind he made extra space at the corners, but until he tested it, he couldn’t know if it would work. He clutched Nugget at the foot of the cliff hardly able to stand unaided. The other horses moved past them, obviously very keen to get off the narrow cliff path and he didn’t have the energy to try to stop them wandering off. He staggered and tried twice before he found the strength to mount his horse. He urged Nugget to climb back up to the top. It was a dizzyingly steep drop off the edges of the path and Nugget was keeping well away from the edge, repeatedly bumping Jim’s knee painfully into the rock face.
As he reached the top, screams of pain and the clang of striking weapons blasted at him. Scattered all around the cart were dead bodies, but none were his men. All four were fully occupied however, fighting several opponents each. All were bloody and he just hoped little of that was their own. It was clear they were in desperate straits and would soon be overwhelmed by the sheer force of numbers against them. He felt a deep furious growl roll up his throat. He raised a hand and threw out a lash of flaming power just in front of his valiant men. A whole swathe of bandits fell screaming and he was suddenly the focus of every eye. Another growl escaped him and as he raised his hand again the bandits fled in terror. He checked the force he expelled on the second lash to just singe the laggards rather than kill. It was all he had strength left for anyway and the bandits were now fleeing as fast as they could. His remaining anger helped his body continue functioning long enough to cancel the spell on the wagon and then urge Nugget to turn back out of sight onto the new path. Only then did he pass out, utterly drained.
He didn’t see the men unload the wagon’s contents onto the re-caught horses and then wrestle the empty wagon down the barely passable path. Nor was he aware of being tied to Nugget’s saddle for the dangerous trip back down the cliff.
Jim woke when a violent jolt flung him sharply against something hard and immobile. Blinking blearily he realised he lay on top of the sacks of grain in the wagon and it had been the wooden side he’d been thrown against. The wagon stopped just as he was trying to get up and he was sent flying again.
‘Sorry,’ Freddie said appearing into his view.
‘Where are we?’
‘Quite a bit farther on,’ Freddie told him.
‘Was the path down ok?’ Jim asked.
‘Hairy as hell,’ Freddie admitted with a faint grin. ‘But thank you for making us a way out,’ he added earnestly. ‘How are you doing now?’
‘Not up to walking yet,’ Jim admitted. He noticed all the men were walking with the exception of Rupert who also lay in the wagon. A blood soaked bandage around his thigh gave mute evidence that Rupert’s injury must be bad. The other horses all had sacks of grain tied over their saddles which would have lightened the wagonload considerably, if it hadn’t been carrying two men instead. ‘Is there any food left?’
‘Not much; but we saved this for you,’ Freddie said and passed over a drawstring bag. He noticed Jim’s hand shook as he took the bag. But he’d previously observed that Jim seemed to regain his strength just as quickly as a spent animus with the consumption of food. Pity there wasn’t more protein rich food available, but they’d all been working excessively recently and eating everything they could lay their hands on. After the battle, they’d all needed to eat just to keep moving. Each of them had sustained wounds that sapped their strength. It was just lucky that none were life threatening. It was also fortunate that the bandits were not renegade soldiers with real fighting skill or the battle would have gone very badly for them. Freddie and his men had a natural strength and speed advantage, which coupled with their fighting experience, meant they would have been able to fight rings around their adversaries if they had been opposed by anything like equal numbers. As it was, they’d been on the brink of being overwhelmed by the sheer size of the opposing force, when Jim had intervened and saved the day.
‘I’m trying to get us back to the road,’ Freddie said, once Jim had finished the last of the food and seemed more alert.
‘How far is it?’ Jim asked. ‘Do you know where the road is?’
‘Not precisely.’
‘Aren’t we adding distance to our journey by veering so far out of our way?’
‘Probably, but we can’t travel too much farther over such rough country before something else will stop us. None of us has much strength left.’
‘I think we’d do better heading directly for home and only veer when we have to. We’ve come down from the highlands so we shouldn’t have any more cliffs to negotiate. When we reach the next shelter we ought to take a proper break too,’ he added eyeing his companions critically. Freddie nodded and without a word altered their direction to head directly for White Haven. Jim wondered how he knew where it was; an animus ability? He himself only knew because he could sense Amelie’s location; she was the beacon he navigated by.
They found the river next. It ran deep and swift with no way, short of swimming, of getting across. They knew the ford they’d crossed over on their way out was somewhere downstream, where it met the road. The river at that point was wide and shallow and a causeway had been created to allow wagons to be driven across. They turned and followed the river downstream in search of the ford, but when they came to some decent shelter, by way of thick forest, they called a halt. They unloaded the horses and even unhitched the cart horse so she could move freely, rest and graze beside the river for a good hour. The men sat together under the tarp covering the sacks of grain trying to keep warm. They’d been exposed to the full brunt of the sub zero cold and fierce wind all day and were wind burned, badly chilled and each nursing injuries. Without a fire the stop didn’t revive the men much, but with a modicum of shelter, grazing and water at hand, the horses at least could replenish themselves and it was their strength the men were relying on now.
‘We’re not going to get back tonight,’ Freddie remarked later. It was nearly dark and they’d only just found the ford and the road home. ‘We’d be foolish to attempt the crossing now.’ They stood staring at the river; there was no denying it was appreciably faster flowing and far higher up the banks than it had been coming out. A missed step in the dim twilight could be disastrous. So too, getting soaked in icy water just before sleeping out overnight could be fatal, especially since they were already so exhausted. Jim nodded agreement and they returned to the forest to find a sheltered campsite.
Jim watched the three men head off purposely, one to try and fish in the river, one to find anything else edible in the forest and the last to collect enough firewood to at least set a meagre fire. Rupert was asleep on the wagon, clearly not at all well and so Jim volunteered to take care of the horses. At least they had plenty of grain to augment the sparse grazing to be had. He then laboriously rearranged the sacks on the wagon, stacking them up higher in a wall around the edges and making a hollow centre big enough to sit up in with the tarp over the top creating a roof. With five of them inside, space would be tight, but at least they’d have shelter and it’d be warm enough to sleep now the sun had fallen and the temperature dropped further.
Three small trout between five hungry men wasn’t going to go far, but at least they could pad it out with potato, carrot and onion to make a decent hot meal that night. Sleeping on an empty belly was uncomfortable to say the least, but for those with magic, who had especially fast metabolisms, eating regularly was essential just to keep going and none of them had yet regained their strength.
‘Jim?’
‘What?’ Jim muttered, coming awake with difficulty. He sat up, blearily rubbing his eyes and looking round at the men draped all around him in the dark wagon.
‘What’s wrong?’ Freddie asked him. They’d all woken when Jim spoke.
‘Did someone call me?’ Jim asked, and then the faint voice reached him again. ‘Am?’ he murmured out loud.
‘Can sh
e ask Drako to send some men to meet us here, at the ford, at first light?’ Freddie said quickly, immediately grasping the opportunity.
‘You speak to her,’ Jim said abruptly and caught hold of Freddie’s shoulder. ‘Drako’s asking lots of questions,’ he added.
Freddie was surprised to be included; Jim was usually very possessive of any contact with Amelie and mind to mind communication could be exceedingly personal. Then he felt the link open up between himself and Jim and much became clear; Jim was far weaker than he’d been admitting to. He heard Amelie’s hiss of concern and knew she’d picked up on that too. It was out of character for Jim to passively act as the connector. He was letting Amelie do all the reaching and holding of the communication bridge too. Freddie immediately called a halt to the questioning; it could wait until they were face to face. Jim was on the verge of passing out again. Even this small use of his own magic was more than he had to spare.
‘Sleep Jim, we’ll have help in the morning,’ Freddie said gently. Jim’s hand dropped off his shoulder limply and he slumped. Within moments he was asleep again. ‘He’s completely exhausted his magic,’ Freddie told the others quietly.
‘We wouldn’t have made it without him,’ Dustin remarked. ‘Those fireballs scared the hell out of me.’
‘I’ve never heard a man roar like that,’ Rupert interjected. ‘I thought a big cat had sneaked up behind us. I remember thinking that was it; my time was up.’
‘Did you notice his eyes turn gold?’ Johnny asked.
‘I’ve seen that happen before today,’ Freddie admitted. ‘Anger triggers something in him, but what, I don’t know.
‘He’s a wizard; it could be anything,’ Johnny added nervously.
‘He defended us and made our escape possible,’ Freddie reminded. ‘Now he’s suffering for it,’ he added, eyeing the white face with its faint lines of strain, or was it pain? ‘We all need to get some sleep. I’ll wake Dustin for second watch, Johnny you’re third and Rupert fourth. Ok?’ They all nodded promptly, well aware of the importance of keeping watch. They’d taken a calculated risk having an hour’s sleep straight after dinner, but they’d all desperately needed it. It was still early, barely past late afternoon and generally speaking, you didn’t expect people to be sleeping and thus vulnerable this time of day. The bandits had been scared off, but they weren’t all dead and they’d clearly wanted the wagon badly. Although they would now, thanks to Jim, be very wary, a night attack couldn’t be ruled out and for that reason they hadn’t kept the fire going beyond cooking dinner. Firelight was conspicuous at night and would light up the details of their camp whilst blinding their eyes from seeing outside of it. The cosy nest Jim had made was doing a good job of keeping the cold at bay sufficiently to sleep, with four men sharing their warmth in the same small space.
Freddie checked on the horses; they’d bunched up and most were sitting down asleep so he took care not to startle them awake. He took his wolf form and jumped up on top of the tarp covered wall of sacks. From that comfortable seat he had an excellent vantage point, especially as his wolf had keen night vision and sense of smell. His thick fur also helped to ward off the bitter chill; everything was white with frost. He could hear the river rushing over the rocks of the ford, but they were far enough away from it not to be swamped by the noise. Instead, he listened to the sounds of the forest. The wind rattled the bare twigs and the branches creaked and groaned as they rubbed together. Higher up, the wind hissed through the impediment of the forest from the open lands beyond like an enormous snake. Not many creatures were out tonight, but the rustle and squeaks of small animals was reassuring to hear. They were additional sentries, who would warn him by their sudden silence when something disturbed them.
He licked at the very painful gash he’d received on his arm earlier, trying to ease the throbbing. He’d washed it in the river so it was at least clean, but it needed to be stitched. He didn’t have the right kit with him to stitch it; they’d used everything in the tiny kit on the others. It was going to have to wait until he got back to White Haven. He ignored the other smaller wounds on his leg and hand; they hurt but weren’t serious. They’d all sustained wounds; it was just extremely fortunate that no-one had been killed. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to do much with this injured arm, but most worrying was Rupert’s leg. He had a very nasty slice nearly down to the bone. There was no way he was going to be able to run and even a careful ride was going to be extremely painful. They’d bound it for him to help support it but it had swollen badly and they all feared it was becoming infected. He’d given Rupert the last watch so he’d have the longest non interrupted sleep, but until they had some help, he needed all of them.
‘All quiet,’ he advised Dustin. ‘There’s a good vantage point on the sacks up top,’ he added. He tried not to limp badly but knew Dustin had noticed. Dustin didn’t comment and they changed places. Freddie had walked round the camp many times during his watch, going into the trees downwind to be sure he’d smell it if anyone lurked close-by. Unfortunately the exertions of the day and injuries had combined with the cold and his limbs had begun seizing up. Inside the wagon however, it was warm and he immediately fell asleep in the only vacant spot.
Freddie and Jim woke to a yip from outside. They were the only ones left in the wagon and Freddie pulled the tarp aside to let the cold dawn light shine in. How had he slept through the others coming and going outside for their watches? They’d all been jammed in like peas in a pod; he thought he’d have felt them brush past or the wagon rocking. He really must have been out of it. Poking his head out cautiously, Freddie relaxed seeing Johnny and Dustin outside doing camp chores. Clambering out he noticed Rupert sitting on the cushioned wagon’s seat again, partially reclined, with a blanket over him and his injured leg stretched out before him. He didn’t look well, but he seemed reasonably alert and made sense when he checked on him. The food and rest had done them all good, but they needed to get home and medically attended to sooner rather than later.
‘You’re injured as well,’ Jim remarked, eyeing Freddie’s bandaged arm and the blood that had seeped through, with concern. He then looked at each of the other men and his mouth tightened. In fact Jim was the only one not physically wounded. It didn’t help his temper to know he’d passed out, forcing them to look after him. And even injured, they’d managed to carry on, continuing to do more than he still felt capable of. He didn’t enjoy being a burden or viewed as weak before men courageously working through their pain.
‘So, using magic saps you physically,’ Freddie remarked noticing Jim struggling to lift a sack. ‘You could carry two of those at a time yesterday, with ease.’
‘Don’t remind me,’ Jim said in frustration. ‘I feel about as much use as a wet sock.’
‘I’m a wet sock with a hole in,’ Rupert interjected with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
‘Yep, we all need stitches, but I’m not doing it here,’ Freddie said. ‘What’s in the pot, Dustin?’
‘Fish stew.’ Dustin noted his alpha’s considerable interest and pleased surprise. Knowing everyone was in a poor way; Dustin had risen early and prepared some of their precious root vegetables to slowly roast over the fire, before he went fishing. Knowing two fish weren’t going to give them much nutrition when spread between five, he searched the immediate area. Spotting a large patch of stinging nettles, he gathered some to augment the fish stew. Stinging nettles weren’t his favourite greens, but they were a plentiful food source just here. Real greens were always welcome in winter and would help pad out the stew. Freddie gave him a glance and took over stirring the pot with his good arm, freeing Dustin to help Jim restore order to the sacks they’d moved. The load needed to be evenly distributed weight-wise and packed tightly to stop the sacks sliding and overbalancing the load. Dustin tied the tarp tightly around the load to keep everything in place. He also positioned it with an eye to protecting it as much as possible from the threatening weather and also splashes from the river wh
en they crossed. By the time he’d finished, the stew was ready. It was a small meal, but it was hot, nutritious and very welcome.
‘I think I just saw something,’ Rupert whispered. He’d been handed his meal first, up on top of the wagon and had finished first. He’d taken on the job of keeping watch since he was otherwise useless. Everyone went on alert, but whatever or whoever Rupert had seen had slipped away again into the trees.
‘Oh,’ Rupert exclaimed in shock as an enormous golden eagle suddenly landed on the wagon beside him. The others, busy circling the camp for signs of whoever Rupert had seen, rushed back and gathered around the wagon and its new occupant. The eagle was easily as big as a person and had a huge, sharply hooked beak and stared at them with piercing yellow eyes. But the scarily long curved claws clutched a bag.
‘Am?’ Jim asked and the eagle turned to him. It abruptly hopped over to him, and then stopped, head tilted to one side. He tried to reach mentally towards the bird but couldn’t even stretch that far; his magic was at an all time low. ‘If that’s you, go change, so we can talk.’ The eagle ruffled its feathers in agitation then leapt into the air and dived between the trees, putting some obstacles between them. Amelie, back in human form and dressed, appeared from between the trees and they all breathed easier. She ran to Jim and wrapped her arms around him.
‘You scared the hell out of me,’ she admitted searching his face.
‘Sorry love,’ Jim murmured into her hair. ‘You didn’t come alone, did you?’
Amelie: Wizards of White Haven Page 44
