Rivers Run Red (The Morhudrim Cycle Book 1)
Page 38
Left arm pressed tight against the side of the wagon Nihm flexed it, moving slowly to shift her weight. Amazingly, her arm managed to support her and ease the pressure from her face and chest until the wagon hit a large rut in the road and the flatbed bounced up and down.
Swearing loudly she tried again. Marron and Morten must have heard her. She certainly had no trouble hearing them as they both exclaimed in surprise.
“Take the reins Morten,” Marron cried before turning and clambering into the back.
“Impatient as ever I see!” Marron grinned as she said it, pleased to see Nihm moving. “You know you could’ve waited. We’ll be at Fallston later tonight or maybe first thing on the morrow.”
She got a sense then from Sai, confusion? No something else.
Nihm pondered a moment before replying.
“Nihm? Are you Okay?” Marron asked, interrupting her conversation.
“Iw um phin” Nihm said. She could see Marron’s feet as she raised her head from the wooden boards. She tried again, pushing herself up with her hand and arm, twisting her shoulders. Her leg felt like a log as she tried to move it, but it moved, slowly.
Encouragingly, Marron placed a supporting hand on Nihm’s shoulder as she turned helping her into a sitting position.
Taking a deep breath Nihm closed her eyes briefly. Then, with a determined effort lifted herself up and back onto the makeshift bed, happy that her arms were strong enough to support her weight despite a bit of trembling.
Trying her legs, Nihm moved them one at a time back on to the mattress. It was slow, her movements strained, but eventually she managed it and with a deep sigh laid back.
“Well done Nihm,” Marron encouraged, “That was really good. You’ll be up and about in no time.”
“Ankhew,” Nihm smiled. All she’d done was roll onto her face, then right herself again and move back onto the bed but, dumb as it seemed, it felt like a triumph.
Marron fetched a water skin, poured water into a tumbler and held it out to Nihm in challenge, watching as her daughter slowly raised her hands to it. She fumbled the cup at first but Marron held it still so it didn’t fall.
Finally Nihm managed to clasp it in both hands. It wobbled and trembled as she slowly drew it up to her mouth. Pressing the rim against her bottom lip she tilted the cup only to tip it too far. Nihm choked, spluttering as water sluiced into and out of her mouth and down her chin. Coughing she grimaced as Marron leaned across and pounded her back which was not helpful as she tried to swallow what little water she still retained.
Swallowing, at least that was easy to do, automatic. But moving, even just to drink from a cup was awkward. Nihm shook her head in frustration, cross with herself. It was such a simple thing and yet she struggled to do even that.
Sai asked.
“Well done Nihm,” Marron echoed. “You really are doing remarkably well. Now get some rest and let’s see how you feel when we stop. Maybe with a little help we might get you on your feet.”
“Oggi,” Nihm nodded, excited at the prospect. It would be easier on the ground rather than in the back of a bumpy wagon.
Lying down Nihm felt Marron clasp her hand. Her mother held it tight in hers and squeezed it gently, stroking it and tracing a spiral on the back with a finger. It was what she did when Nihm was younger and feeling poorly. The sensation was soft and relaxing and unexpectedly quite emotional for her.
Marron stroked Nihm’s face, tucking back some hair behind her ear that had broken loose from her tie. “I’ll wake you when we stop. Promise,” Marron said, wiping away a tear that tracked down her daughter’s cheek. “Now close your eyes my sweet.” Leaning over Marron kissed her forehead.
Nihm must have dozed because the next she knew Sai was waking her to advise they had stopped. It was frustrating lying in the back of the wagon. She could see nothing and had no one to tell her what was going on. So Nihm listened.
Her hearing seemed inordinately sharp. She could clearly hear Marron and Morten talking quietly at the front of the wagon but found she could discern many more sounds besides.
One sound though was missing, the grinding tread of the wheels. She’d grown accustomed to its steady rumble. It seemed almost peaceful without it. Concentrating Nihm separated the many different noises she could hear and filtered them out; Marron and Morten talking, the distant sounds of the river, even the birds singing. Nihm didn't know how she managed it. She thought it and it happened, the sounds were still there just muted.
There, that was what had taken her interest. Mercy and Stama talked with someone. No, more than one. They were distant, Nihm wasn’t sure how far, but she couldn’t make out what was said. Focusing, Nihm felt a rushing sensation and suddenly their voices crystallised. Maybe they weren’t that far off after all.
“…carriage. Near enough ordered me out like I had nothing else to be doin,” a deep voice rumbled.
“Mind your tone smith,” said another, a southern accent Nihm thought, it certainly wasn’t local.
“Mind me tone he says. You two bin standing bout guarding agin fresh air,” Smith replied.
“So Father Zoller is up ahead in Fallston?” Mercy’s voice interjected.
“Aye, on his way back to Rivercross.” The guard volunteered. He turned back to the smith. “Be ready to go in a half hour.”
“If’n I get some help mayhap,” the smith retorted. There was a momentary pause.
“Well safe journey,” Mercy told them. Nihm heard the sound of leather moving on leather.
“Hold friend.” A new voice spoke up, “Thing is we been hearing things. Place is renowned for bandits and the like. Be safer travelling together, fer all of us.”
“What sort of things?” Mercy asked. Nihm could tell her interest was piqued.
“Truth is nought much, but that’s the point or not so to speak. Not seen any wild life off in the bushes there nor heard none neither. Been here a while waiting and I got a feelin, that’s all.” The voice had a hint of uncertainty in it.
“You’d be doin god's work,” the other threw in. He was on edge for sure.
“Hold a while,” Mercy said. Nihm heard again the creak of leather and the sound of Mercy’s horse walking back to the wagon.
“What do they wa
nt?” Marron asked before Mercy had drawn to a halt.
Hadn’t Marron heard? Nihm wondered but didn’t spare the thought as she listened on.
“They want to travel with us. They seem on edge. It may be nothing, may be something,” Mercy replied cautiously.
“I don’t much fancy travelling with Red Priests or their Red Cloaks. You know my reasons,” Marron replied, tension in her voice.
“Me either. Thing is, after what we saw back on the road, is it right to leave them?” Mercy replied. “Of the trinity I follow the White Lady. One of her teachings is tolerance and help unto others.”
Marron snorted. “Aye well you know where I stand. The Red Priests have no love of me or my kind. It’s a risk I don’t need to take.”
“What do you mean by your kind?” Morten interjected.
Silence. Nihm was starting to wonder if anyone was going to say anything at all.
“Say nothing further Marron,” Mercy warned.
“No, Mort travels with us; he’s a right to know.” Marron replied as Nihm knew she would. “I’m of the Order Morten. Nihm and I are in danger until we leave the Rivers. Travelling with Red Cloaks will make that even more so.”
“The Order!” Morten exclaimed in a low voice. “Did Ma and Da know?"
“Yes. Though we don’t speak of it in these times, they knew,” Marron said.
Morten considered a moment. “Well, it’s okay by me. I don’t really understand why the High Lord broke the accords anyway but if my folks knew and sent me with you then they trust you. That’s good enough for me.”
“Better be more than okay boy. A slip of the tongue in the wrong place could cause a lot of trouble for all of us.” Mercy growled.
“I’ll see no harm come to Nihm…” Morten flared back, “or Marron,” he added quickly.
“Aye well see you keep to it,” Mercy said her tone slightly mollified, then addressing Marron. “So what about the Red Cloaks?”
Marron sighed, “We’ll wait damn them. May as well get something to eat whilst we do,”
Mercy said nothing but Nihm heard her horse shifting and turning and then soft hooves on the roadside. Maybe I’ll get a chance to walk now Nihm thought happy at the prospect.
Chapter 55
: A New Power
A vestige of annoyance trickled through
Keeper chuckled
Hiro frowned
Keeper paused and Hiro sensed hesitancy on their mind link.
Hiro thought on Keeper's words and knew he was right. He too had felt the darkness rising in the north and had ignored it for too long.
Keeper said.
Hiro was taken aback, intrigued not least because he could sense Keeper’s uncertainty.
Keeper continued as if Hiro had not spoken.
Hiro considered. The Reach was less than a turn to the north and east.
Power thrummed down the link, so unexpected it almost snared Hiro. He threw up a small deflective mind shield only just in time and felt the compulsion dissipate against its shell.
Hiro felt regret and contrition across the link. It was as close as he'd get to an apology. He realised then how desperate Keeper must be and not without cause. Things were serious. The Morhudrim were risen and they stood on the brink of a new dark age. And now a new power was at play.
Still, Keeper had overstepped the mark. Disgruntled, Hiro severed the link.
Chapter 56
: A Good Lesson
“Is he asleep?” Lett asked, watching Hiro sway gently in the saddle, effortlessly keeping
rhythm with his horse’s gait. The old man’s eyes were closed tight and had been for a while.
Renco was frustrated. Lett had a habit of firing off questions like that despite his problem. This time Maohong answered her.
“Oh yes, Master Hiro very old. Must sleep where he can,” Mao said his own crinkled and ancient face perfectly straight.
Lett wasn’t sure if she was being teased or not. The old monk did appear fast asleep. “How does he stay on then? If he falls at his age he’ll hurt himself. He could break a hip or something.”
“He spend time with Chezuan Nomadi in ShóHang far in east, across great water,” Maohong explained.
Renco saw Mao warming to his tale; he had that glint in his eye that he got when he fished and felt the hook taking. “They teach him trick to it,” Mao continued.
“The Chezuan Nomadi? Never heard of them. Who are they?” Lett asked.
Renco allowed himself a hint of a smile. Clearly being a bard’s daughter she never tired of a good story, especially one she’d not heard before.
“The Chezuan Nomadi are savages. Fierce warriors that roam free raping and pillaging wherever they go.” Renco twisted in his saddle. It was Luke Goodwill that had spoken. His eyes were bright and he had a grin on his face. “Old Mao is just having fun with you Lett. Don’t believe everything you hear.”
Mao snorted. “Been there eh?” He asked of the bard before answering for him. “No? Well Mao has, you listen to old Mao.” Renco grinned enjoying the new game.
“Now, now, no offense was meant,” Luke replied from atop his wagon holding his hands up in placation. “Only it’s said, those that encounter the Chezuan never live to tell of it.”
“Then how you hear, neh?” Mao sniffed loudly and looked back at the bard. “Bard live for story and long tale. Probably make most up. Mao will keep his.” With that he faced front and would not be drawn further on the subject.