“Lerramorrians,” groaned Joss recognizing the wolf rampant crest on their tunics.
“I take it you didn’t set wards,” Lucy mentally muttered at Justin.
“Neither did you it appears,” returned Justin.
“Drop your weapons and come quietly,” said the man in charge.
“We’re travelers and not a threat. Can’t we talk about this?” asked Justin.
“I feel much better when the people I’m talking to are unarmed,” said the leader.
“So do I,” replied Justin cheekily.
No one showed any inclination to drop their weapons. The situation was not promising. Joss watched as Gavin shifted his weight and Lucy’s face hardened into a determined look that did not bode well. Joss didn’t know what all Lucy was capable of, but now did not seem to be a good time to find out.
“Neville, before this gets out of hand, tell your men to stand down,” said Joss.
Neville, the leader, took a hard look at Joss. His eyes widened in recognition and he motioned his men to lower their weapons.
“My apologies, my lord, I didn’t recognize you.”
“Accepted. One could hardly expect you to with all the road dust and grime,” said Joss kindly.
Everyone was staring at Joss flabbergasted.
“Now that you know we aren’t Fredamonn spies, let’s all be on our way,” said Joss.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, my lord,” apologized Neville, looking miserable, but determined.
“Why exactly is that?” asked Joss in a cold voice. Lucy had never heard this tone before from Joss, so different from his usual jocular teasing.
“Orders, my lord.”
“I’ll give you new ones.”
“Sorry, my lord, but that won’t do.” Neville reached into his vest pocket and brought out a sheet of paper. “Read them yourself.”
Joss read ~ Bring in anyone you come across who is armed with anything more dangerous than a spoon. If you see my blasted son, bring him directly. Do not let him talk you out of it!
“You see, my lord, I’ve not much of a choice.”
“I see. And what if we choose not to come peacefully?”
“Well, my lord, if you win, it’s because I’m dead and my wife would be heartbroken. If I win and you’re dead, your father may decide to kill me and my wife would be heartbroken.”
“Hmmm, I always did like Lilla,” said Joss thoughtfully. “Okay, we will come along, but tell Lilla she owes me a pie.”
“Apple, cherry, or kalliberry?” asked Neville looking more relaxed since the tension had dissipated. Neville knew what Joss was capable of, and despite taking charge, he did not appear to be the leader of the group, or the most dangerous one.
“Cherry.”
Neville nodded and motioned for them to follow. His men positioned themselves around and behind.
“Sorry about this,” Joss apologized to the group. “I’ll clear this with my father in a day or so, then, we can be on our way.”
“Who, precisely, is your father?” wondered Maya. It had never occurred to her to ask where he came from or his parentage. He appeared in their lives one night at an inn and that was that. His home or pursuits when he wasn’t with them had never mattered before. Part of the problem was that getting a straight answer out of Joss was difficult at best and impossible at worst.
“Does it matter?” asked Joss with a sad, sarcastic smile. “No, don’t answer that. I’d rather not know. My father happens to have the distinct honor of being King Temarr of Lerramorre.”
“You’re a prince?” asked Lucy, surprised.
“Don’t worry, I have five older brothers. I have few prospects and zero ambition to become king. How horrible,” Joss shuddered. “As it is, I get some freedom, some perks, and all the inconvenience associated with being a prince.”
Joss glanced at Maya to see how she was taking the news. Her face was carefully blank.
“Is your father going to let us continue on our way after a brief ‘hi, how are you’ or are things about to get difficult? How much trouble are we in?” asked Justin.
“Oh, I’m sure I’m in trouble. I’m always in trouble of some kind. He’ll want me to take charge of some fighting unit, scout, or otherwise advise him. That’s why this may take a day or two. If I can’t talk him out of employing me, I’ll try to talk him into letting you go on without me.”
“You’ll try?” asked Gavin.
“He’s perceptive. He’ll see you have battle potential. You may be given the choice of fighting or remaining prisoner until the skirmish is done.”
“He’d lock us up?” asked Lucy worriedly.
“Rather than have you pass information to Fredamonn, or worse, fight for them? Oh yes, he’d lock you up. You might want to contemplate that on our way to Lerramorre. Sorry.”
“I’m sure I don’t want to end up in a war, but I wouldn’t mind fighting with Joss,” Lucy told Justin.
“I agree. I’m sure Gavin does too. This is the kind of thing he has trained for. What better way for him to test his skills than helping a friend. Think about if you’d rather fight or heal. King Temarr will be glad to use us. He may be perceptive, but he can’t know everything. We can decide how much we want him to know about our abilities.”
Lucy could see they would end up involved. Joss was going to be persuaded or forced to stay. Gavin and Joss had developed a friendship. Certainly Gavin wasn’t going to let his friend have all the fun. Lucy didn’t know what Maya’s feelings for Joss were, but she doubted Maya would be able to leave him in a war zone guilt free. She didn’t know what Justin felt personally, but she was sure he would be practical. If half the group was volunteering to fight, he wasn’t going to argue. He’d volunteer as well, especially if the choice was between fighting or dungeons. So, it looked like she would have to choose between healing or fighting. Staying out of the encounter all-together was probably not an option.
Chapter 11
It wasn’t long before they entered King Temarr’s base camp. No wonder being sneaky hadn’t worked. They had ended up much closer to the army than they ever intended to. They should have been magically scanning for an army rather than small groups of scouts. The camp was immense. Lucy had never seen so many people in one place, much less soldiers. The noise of the army was deafening even though they were preparing to camp for the night. They knew the other army knew their whereabouts so there was no need for subterfuge. The fires lit by the opposing force implied it was just as large. Fires crackled, men ate, laughed, joked, sang, wrestled, and otherwise blew off steam to ease the tension of the approaching battle. Occasionally Lucy and Maya received cat calls. Apparently there were no women soldiers. Women with the army were either healers or whores. The men wondered which they were.
Nearby, horses stomped their feet and nickered. Chain armor jingled. Plate armor clanged. Somewhere to the left, Lucy could hear a blacksmith’s hammer. She assumed he was making last minute repairs to either weapons or armor. Last minute arrowheads perhaps? Lucy didn’t know how long it took to make an arrow. How soon after the head cooled could you attach it to a shaft and fletch it? Everywhere was movement, noise, and smells. Campfire smoke made Lucy’s eyes water. One stewpot they passed smelled good. The next, much less so. Everywhere, the smells of leather, rust, sweat, and urine assaulted the senses. They were led to a plain tent. Neville motioned them to enter. It was quieter in the tent Lucy noticed with relief.
“Hello, father,” said Joss jovially, “How are you?”
“Inconvenienced,” replied King Temarr.
“You’re involved in a war. You’re supposed to feel inconvenienced. Teminn, Klarr, Haminn, Narr, Larinn,” Joss nodded a greeting at his brothers in turn.
“Who are your companions?” asked King Temarr with interest.
“Gavin, Lucy, Justin, and Maya,” replied Joss casually motioning towards each as he introduced them. Lucy wondered if she was supposed to bow or curtsy, but no one seemed to notice her.
/> “You are their…?”
“Guide,” replied Joss.
“To?”
“North.”
“Not a safe place to go.”
“Apparently not.”
“Their business?”
“Their own.”
“You should know better than to play games with me, my son,” King Temarr narrowed his eyes, his appetite for smooth meaningless banter sated. “Assuming they are not going to help our enemy, but intend to continue north, there’s nothing in that direction but Skelt. No one willingly deals with Skelt but traders and wizards. You are not traders. You introduced the big one first. He is obviously a warrior, but not the leader. No, not the leader. You,” he motioned to Justin, “are the leader. A wizard too, I’d wager.”
“Perhaps,” replied Justin carefully. King Temarr was perceptive.
“You are also a wizard,” King Temarr motioned to Lucy and dismissed her at the same time. “Let’s see, brawn, magic, you must be everything else,” he said to Maya. “Languages, customs, that kind of thing. I can see I’m right enough to be going on with. Now, what to do with you?”
“Let us continue on,” suggested Justin without much hope.
“No, I don’t think so. Your guide will remain here. He will do his duty to his father and his kingdom. A war will prepare you for dealing with Skelt. I see the potential value in your skills. Would you care to fight with us or become prisoners?”
“May I offer another option?” asked Justin politely.
“You may,” said King Temarr carefully.
“Some of us have magic skills as you suspect, but are not battle trained. Some of us will be more useful healing the wounded. We may be able to heal things that your soldiers would otherwise die from.”
“A worthy idea. I accept your offer. The infirmary is that way,” he waved his hand to the left. “Neville can show you. Joss will stay here while he and I discuss a few things. Then, he can join you there to work out the details. You may not officially be prisoners, but Joss and Neville will be officially in charge of you.” King Temarr dismissed them and settled down to the business of tactics with his sons and other generals.
Neville was waiting for them outside the tent. Once informed of their status and destination, he showed them to the infirmary. Outside the meager protection of the tent, Lucy’s senses were again assaulted. Lucy was glad the journey to the infirmary tent was brief. It was a large tent with many cots set up already in preparation for the coming battle. There was a cart on wheels full of clean blankets, bandages, wooden slats to be used as splints, and other supplies to clean wounds. They had barely looked around when a young page showed up. King Temarr was observant and didn’t like to waste time.
“Hello,” he said with a bow, “My name is Peter. The King said the blond one may know how to make potions; I am to assist and get her anything she needs.”
“Hello Peter,” said Maya with a smile, “My name is Maya. I’ll need three large pots or cauldrons, wood for a fire, spoons for stirring, and a plethora of plants. You can read?” Peter nodded. “Good. I’ll write a list for you while you gather the rest.”
Peter ran off while Maya worked on her list. It was a good thing she had started collecting herbs on their journey. She pulled the dried ones out of her pack and began to prepare them.
“What do you think?” Justin asked Lucy.
“I think I would rather inflict wounds from a distance than try to deal with the wounded soldiers coming here. I’m not ready to deal with severe battle wounds and soliders in pain. I hate setting bones and putting stitches in bleeding flesh. The mere idea of digging chain mail out of mace wounds makes me want to vomit. I don’t want to try to deal with loss of limbs, spurting blood, or seeing internal body parts that no one is ever supposed to see. I have no idea what a spleen looks like, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”
“That sounds reasonable to me. I’ll stay here and help Maya. If she can do the simple things and administer her potions, I can work on the more complex wounds. I have an idea on how we can make those wounds fewer.”
“What’s that?”
“Neville, I need rocks.”
“Rocks?”
“Yes, rocks. Pebble size, I think. As many as can be found quickly.”
“Do you mind if I ask why?” asked Neville confused. He was used to taking orders from his King, but he wasn’t going to gather a bunch of rocks on a stranger’s insistence without good reason.
“Not at all. I figure that while Maya works on her potions, Lucy and I can come up with a few things ourselves. We will take the pebbles, put simple spells on them, and hand them out to the men. They will only last about three days, but that is good. If they are captured or killed, the enemy won’t think that a rock is important. If we keep the spells small enough and varied enough, they shouldn’t be potent enough to draw the attention of a magic user, if Fredamonn has one. Do you happen to know if they have one?”
“Our intel has neither confirmed nor denied that. I don’t mean to sound rude, but what good can a small spell do? Especially, if they do have a wizard of their own.”
“Those are the kinds of things Lucy and I are going to think up. Here are a couple ideas. Would it help your archers if their accuracy was increased by ten percent? How about if a soldier were simply lucky? Luck can do amazing things. Make you duck at the right time. Or have an arrow miss you by an inch. Perhaps we can spell a pebble to give the user better aim so they win fights quicker.”
“Yes sir, I can see the value in that. I’ll get working on it right away. I can easily think of ten people who can help collect rocks. How many do you think you can do?”
“We won’t know until we get started. I’d like to be able to give one to each soldier. That’s the other reason to keep the spells small. Hopefully it won’t exhaust us too quickly and we will be able to make more of them that way.”
“That’s a lot of rocks, sir. I’ll send the men back each time they have twenty so you can get started right away.”
“Thank you, Neville. We do want to help. The fewer casualties in any conflict, the better.”
Neville practically ran out the door and began rounding up men to collect rocks. You could hear the dissention in the ranks at the idea. Neville explained as quickly as he could and Lucy could hear the sound of running feet. Apparently, the soldiers thought lucky pebbles spelled by wizards were good ideas too. She tried not to laugh. It was a clever plan and the image of grown men in armor searching for pebbles definitely made her smile. They didn’t have very long to wait before men started to stream in with piles of pebbles. Justin put Gavin in charge of organization. Gavin started a pile to be spelled. Then, he called for baskets to put the spelled ones in. Once the baskets were full, Gavin would be in charge of distribution.
“Okay, great and powerful Justin, how do I do this?” asked Lucy with a smile.
“First, get comfy. We may be at this for a long time. Now, pick up a rock. Hold it in both hands. Concentrate on what you want it to do and release that thought into it.”
Lucy sat cross legged in front of a small pile of rocks. She picked one up and closed her eyes. Lucky, she concentrated, I want this one to be lucky. She opened her eyes and handed Justin the stone.
“How’s this?”
“Good. That’s the right idea. You put a little too much power in it though. Remember, we are going to try to do thousands of these.”
Lucy tried another one and handed it to Justin. He nodded approval. They put the spelled stones in Gavin’s basket and picked up another. Accuracy, she thought this time. Not only was this activity going to be physically tiring, but it was going to be mentally exhausting trying to think of different small ways to help. Lucy made the next stone more likely that the enemy would miss. She did a few of those. It wouldn’t attract attention to a soldier and it would help minimize casualties. What else she thought? Better armor. Dexterity. Invisible? It might be okay to do a few that way but soldiers disappearing might
be upsetting. Added strength? That might wear on the soldier’s body. The goal was to help. Blades that didn’t dull or dent over the course of the battle?
“How are you doing?” asked Justin.
“Okay.”
“Remember to get up and stretch periodically. I’ll see if Neville can send any food over. Don’t wear yourself out. I want you to keep working on this. I have a few other ideas I want to play with that requires leaving you here and walking around.”
“Like what?”
“I want to go visit the archers. I think quivers that don’t empty for a couple of days might be useful. I can see if they have any other ideas. I thought I would look at the cavalry horses, making sure they are healthy. A good horse master has checked them over, I’m sure, but I might see things with my magical senses that they can’t see with their eyes or touch with their hands. Also, it won’t hurt to spell some of the horses with the ability to dodge or deflect arrows where their limited armor doesn’t protect them.”
“I think those sound like wonderful ideas,” encouraged Lucy.
“Thanks. Later, when we meet up with Joss we can see what else we can think up. If we have time, that is.”
Justin kissed her cheek and left. Lucy took a break to stretch, eat a slice of bread, and see how Maya was coming along. Then, she sat back down in front of the constantly growing pile of pebbles and started again. Would a man need to be fireproof? Only if they have mages throwing fire, or fiery arrows. There might be better ways to help. Could she make the stone heal small cuts? It was worth a try. Something that healed major cuts would be too noticeable and be too exhausting for her to create. She made more lucky ones. They took the least amount of thought and who knew what they might do that she might not even think up a spell for. She made some that would prevent a man from getting a concussion. She made some to improve balance and reflexes. Not tripping over a fallen soldier at the right time could save a man’s life. The great thing about magic is that you could do a lot with it. The hard thing was that you were limited by what you could think up under stress and time constraints. A stone that prevented dehydration? Why not. A man should get thirsty swinging his sword for hours in battle. Lucy continued on, picking up stones from one pile, spelling them, and putting them down. Luck, focused Lucy. Lots and lots of luck.
Sorcery, Schemes and Skelt: The Kinowenn Chronicles Vol II Page 7
