by John Booth
Thus a decision was made and they carried on traveling west. The trade road was empty of people and overgrown with no signs of wheel ruts or the recent passage of beasts of burden. They had seen no one since they left Delbon.
The golden age of trade was past and the city-states were drawing into themselves. Only a decade ago, the road they traveled on would have been crowded with traders. Attacks by raiders and slavers had thinned the ranks of those willing to risk their lives on such a long and arduous journey.
Two mornings later, Daniel was awakened by the sound of Jalia screaming. He ran to her side, dagger in hand, believing they must be under attack. When he reached her side, he found she was clutching her lower jaw, which was swollen on one side. Daniel carefully pried Jalia’s hands from her face and got her to open her mouth so he could take a look.
“You have an enormous abscess in your jaw.”
“No kidding,” Jalia said in what was supposed to be a sarcastic response. It came out rather differently, sounding like ‘snow kithing’ because of her swollen cheek, which reduced its impact.
Such an infection could prove fatal if not treated promptly and they were far away from civilization. Daniel racked his brains trying to remember where the nearest village might be found. He made a habit of asking old traders about their travels believing such information might on day be useful. Now the day had arrived and his mind was blank.
Jalia attempted to stand and discovered that, though her legs wobbled, she could still manage a few steps. With great effort she managed to steady herself and staggered off to her horse. There was nothing much she could do except to act as normally as she could. She asked the magic ring to fix her abscess, but as Daniel had warned her, magic objects had no power to heal.
“Thucking useleth ring,” she moaned as the pain bit into her.
“Drun Hill,” Daniel shouted to the world. “We can reach Drun Hill today if we get a move on.”
“Werth Thrun Hill?”
“Drun Hill is a village about eight miles west and the same distance north along the road to Ranwin, if we can find it. They may have a healer in the village.” With that cheerful comment ringing in her ears, Daniel led them down the road further west. The country they traveled through was scrubland, changing to light forest when they looked north.
They could see at most only a couple of miles and Daniel would have to locate the right point to turn off. This was not going to be easy with the roads in such poor condition. Even keeping on the trail to Ballis required tracking skills as a lot of the roads features had disappeared.
Sixteen miles may not seem far, but a trader typically averaged two miles an hour or less. Daniel urged his donkeys to a faster pace than he would normally have set. Jalia sat listlessly on her horse. Her face was throbbing and she had trouble focusing her eyes as poison from the abscess seeped into her bloodstream.
Daniel knew the abscess should be lanced, but the thought of sticking a knife into Jalia’s face through flesh and possibly bone made him feel like vomiting. They had to find someone with the right skills.
They made good progress, mainly because the weather was favorable, high summer was turning to autumn and it was pleasantly cool.
Sometime before noon, Daniel turned right and headed out into the tall grasses and stunted trees. If there was a sign of a trail, it was beyond Jalia’s ability to see. She pulled her horse to a halt and shouted at Daniel. “Hath youth gonth crazith? Wherth th trail?”
The effort caused her so much pain that she collapsed onto her horse’s mane. Daniel ran back to help her.
“It’s all right, Jalia. I’m following the landmarks of that small hill in the distance and the larger one you can see behind it and to the left. When they are aligned as they are now, we have reached the start of the road north. I know what I’m doing.”
Daniel took the reins of Jalia’s horse and led them out into the sea of grass. The only thing he was actually certain about was that nobody else had come this way in a long time.
Daniel stopped to give Jalia water, which dribbled from the side of her mouth. She recovered a little as they continued their journey, perhaps because they came to an ancient stone bridge over a river, which at least showed they were on the road.
An hour of travelling later, the grassland turned to forest. When they entered beneath the trees, the road became visible for the first time. In ancient times someone had laid great slabs of stone to create a causeway and though the stones only showed in places beneath dirt, they still prevented the trees of the forest from encroaching. Daniel saw with a sense of awe that an oak tree that must be hundreds of years old had tilted up one of the outer slabs. The road must have been from the age of the Magician Kings.
They made better progress on the relatively smooth stone. The branches of the trees formed a canopy over their heads, which made it cooler and easier to travel at speed.
Eventually they saw a lake in the distance, seemingly the road ran straight into it. Daniel wondered whether the road continued through the lake or whether the lake had existed at the time of the road builders. The lake was a sign that they had almost reached Drun Hill. He had been told the village was on the top of a small hill overlooking a vast lake.
As they got closer to the lake, the sounds of malicious laughter and jeering reached their ears. Jalia forced herself to sit straighter in the saddle. She knew the sound of trouble when she heard it. She reached over her shoulder and released the leather strap that stopped her sword from falling out of its scabbard while she traveled. They might need it shortly.
Along with the laughter, there was another sound, not heard all the time, but breaking out from time to time. That sound was hysterical screaming. Each time that scream was heard the jeering became louder. Somebody was being tortured and it was certain that the victim was a woman.
The crowd came into view and they looked typical villagers. Women in country clothes stood facing the lake, shaking their fists and screaming abuse while their children picked up small stones to throw. Grim faced men holding pitchforks and spades stood close together, watching their victim with gloomy satisfaction.
The person they watched was at the end of a long frame that took its victim fourteen feet out into the lake. Tied to a ducking stool was an attractive dark haired woman who screamed abuse at the crowd. She was soaking wet having been ducked into the lake by the men holding onto the other end of the plank.
The mechanism operated like a seesaw, and when the men let go the girl plunged into the watery depths. She was tied hand and foot and could not escape. Unless the men worked in concert to pull her out of the water she would certainly drown. Such instruments were used to execute people, usually those accused of witchcraft or being in league with the Fairie.
The crowd noticed Jalia and Daniel approach just as the men let the girl fall into the water again, her screams instantly silenced by the lake. A man, who had the look of a leader, left the men by the plank and strolled towards them. The villagers fell silent so they could hear what was said.
“Hello the village,” Daniel said in formal greeting, “We are travelers in seek of shelter for which we have ample money to pay. May I ask what is taking place?” Behind him, Jalia drew her sword and held it casually on her lap.
The village elder noticed her actions and frowned. Travelers do not usually approach a village with swords drawn.
“She is a witch and she deserves what she is getting.”
“Therth is no thuch thing as witchcrath!” Jalia said loudly. The pain it brought her was excruciating, but she didn’t bow her head or give any indication of her condition beyond her slurred speech.
“My traveling companion has an abscess. Do you have someone who can treat it?” Daniel asked politely, though his eyes indicated that he fully agreed with Jalia’s pronouncement.
“As I said, she is our witch.” The elder said waving in the direction of the bubbles rising from the lake. He suddenly realized how long they had left the girl underwater.
“Get her up, lads. She’s far too useful to allow her to die.”
As Daniel and Jalia watched in amazement, the men and some of the women leapt forward and pulled on the end of the plank as though their lives depended on it. As the girl’s head came above water they could see it hung limp and she showed no sign of life. Jalia sheathed her sword, as it was clear that at that moment everybody wanted to save the girl’s life.
“She’s our only healer and more than your friend will suffer if she dies,” the village elder explained as men and women swung the stool around so the girl’s body was brought to land.
Daniel ran to the girl, pushing the men out of the way. He was worried these people might have killed the only person capable of treating Jalia. When he lifted the girl’s head up, he could see she was perhaps sixteen or seventeen. She wasn’t breathing and showed no signs of life.
Lake water dripped out of the girl’s mouth. When he put his hand on her face, he felt a shock pass through him and into her. The energy that left his body made his knees buckle. The girl coughed and spewed lake water over him.
A cheer rose from the crowd. After a few seconds of spitting water, the girl looked up and started swearing.
“I’m not with these people.” Daniel said as he cut the ropes binding her to the stool. “I have a sick friend you must help.”
“Take me from here and I’ll gladly help your friend.”
The girl reminded Daniel of Jalia. She had the same look of fierce determination in her eyes. He helped her from the stool and could not help noticing her lithe figure outlined by her wet clothing. As they left the platform the village elder moved to block their path.
“My name is Bran Tawn, stranger, and you may take your friend to Gally’s cottage for treatment, but the witch stays here in Drun Hill. We need her.” Bran’s tone made it clear this matter was not up for discussion.
Gally spat on Bran’s boots. “I am not the slave that you made of my mother.”
“You’ll do as you’re told or we’ll use the ducking stool on you again,” Bran responded while trying to wipe the spittle off his boots by twisting his foot and sliding it along the grass on the ground. He stared intently into Daniel’s eyes. “Take the witch with you and we will hunt you down. Do you understand?”
“I am only interested in getting Jalia treated. Now step aside,” Daniel said. He helped Gally to where Jalia sat lolling in her saddle.
Gally lifted Jalia’s head and looked at the large swollen area around her jaw. “I’ll need to treat her at my cottage,” she said, and began leading Jalia’s horse away. Daniel followed behind with his train of donkeys and they were soon on the top of a small hill. The houses of the village were dispersed among the trees on the hill, though there was a cluster of five or six cottages a short distance away.
Gally’s cottage was set back in the trees and away from the houses of the village. As they approached, the heady smell of ripening apples filled the air. Behind the cottage was a small orchard and it was clear the apples on the trees were long overdue for picking.
Beneath the trees were three wicker basket beehives with bees buzzing around them. The hives sat on wide low three legged stools that kept them about two feet off the ground, safe from the damp when it rained.
“I’ve not been able to gather the harvest because the villagers insist I spend all my time treating them. They won’t pay me because my mother never accepted money for healing, but now there is only me and I can’t feed myself and treat them.”
Daniel nodded in sympathy, though he wanted to hear the villager’s side of the story before he passed a judgment. He had learnt that people generally told only one side of a story, and that only what they wanted you to believe.
He helped Jalia down from her horse and into a house that was little more than a one room shack. There was a kitchen area for preparing food on the left. There were two beds on the floor and Gally motioned to Daniel that he should lay Jalia on the nearest one.
Gally looked at shelves filled with bottles and wicker boxers and turned to Daniel. “I’ll need some willow bark to make a brew to ease her pain. If you go into the village, someone will tell you where to find the nearest trees.”
Daniel nodded and made to leave the cottage, pausing only to take a final look at Jalia who lay unconscious on the bed. As soon as he got out of the cottage he began to run.
Gally went to Jalia and felt her forehead. Jalia was burning with fever and mumbling to herself. Gally started to remove Jalia’s shirt and found a wide thin leather belt fastened tight to her body just above her waist. She would never have known it was there without removing Jalia’s shirt. The belt was artfully constructed of the thinnest supplest leather.
As she unfastened it, Jalia’s breathing became easier. Her abdomen was swollen and the belt had been constraining her. Gally lifted the belt and was stunned by how heavy it was. She examined it more closely and found it was laden with gold coins, each cunningly fitted into an individual pouch. There was more gold in this belt than Gally had imagined could ever exist.
Gally’s breathing became labored and she almost fainted. This was a way out of her life as the village slave. But if she stole her money, this woman would hunt her down for certain. Gally thought back to less than half an hour before when she almost drowned with water flooding into her lungs. She couldn’t take that again. She had to escape and that meant the woman on the bed had to die.
She hid the belt under the bed and reached onto one of her shelves. She took down a bag filled with dried yew leaves. Gally took a mortar and pestle, poured in the leaves and mashed them together. Her hands shook and she was close to tears. This was the first time she ever tried to hurt someone with her healer arts, but she knew she had no choice. No one was ever going to help her escape. She had to do it on her own.
Daniel reached the group of houses. After some searching he found Bran and asked him about the location of the nearest willow trees. Bran led him along the banks of the lake to where they could be found.
“Is Gally a good healer?” Daniel asked as they skirted the bank and climbed through some tall grasses and brambles to get to the willows.
“She is better than her mother was and her mother was very good. Gally is almost magical with her potions and her arts, which is why we call her our witch.”
Daniel frowned as something did not make sense.
“So why did you put her on the ducking stool?”
“She dared to ask for payment. We are a poor people and it’s difficult for us to feed our own families. She needed to be taught humility.”
“It seems a little harsh to drown her for that,” Daniel said, trying not to let any trace of irony seep into his voice.
Bran bristled with righteous anger and Daniel backed away a step.
“We caught her preparing to leave the village. How will our babies be born, our old be relieved of their pains, and our young men be treated for injury without her? She’s a selfish witch for trying to leave us and deserves everything she got.”
“Oh I quite agree,” said Daniel, lying through his teeth. He would try and find a way to help this girl, if he could. The people of this village didn’t deserve a healer.
They reached the first willow and Daniel pulled his dagger out of its sheath and began to carve away some of the bark while being careful not to damage the tree. He could see someone had been equally careful in the past and avoided areas too near those previously harvested.
Gally poured warm water into the pestle and stirred the mixture. So much poison would kill Jalia quickly and without pain. Gally didn’t want her to suffer. She sieved the liquor produced into a cup, though in her haste one or two of the leaves fell into the liquid.
Jalia drifted in and out of consciousness as Gally lifted her into a sitting position and held the cup to her lips. Jalia opened her eyes and saw the dark green almost needle like leaves drifting on the top of the brew.
A warning went off in Jalia’s mind. Trained as an alchemist she kne
w a yew leaf when she saw it. She didn’t really recognize it because her head was spinning, but a snatch of conversation with Marco drifted through her mind. ‘Don’t drink that. you idiot!’ she had screamed at him as he assumed the brew she prepared was tea.
“Poishon,” Jalia said through thick lips and thrust the cup away, sending it rolling across the floor. She grabbed Gally and levered herself into a standing position as the frightened girl stepped back, trying to escape. “Bitchhh” Jalia said, and slapped Gally across the face.
Gally was terrified and horrified at the same time. Without thinking, she punched Jalia in the face as hard as she could. Her fist struck Jalia’s infected jaw. She screamed in agony and fell back onto the cot. The blow struck with such force that the inside of her cheek burst against her teeth, pouring puss and blood into her mouth.
As Jalia lay on the floor spitting the foul tasting liquid onto the floor, Gally recognized that she had to kill Jalia or risk being strung up for attempted murder and began to kick her.
Jalia felt better from the moment the abscess burst. Gally had no idea how to kick someone and she wore soft shoes, so her kicks had little effect except to wake Jalia up. Jalia’s head cleared and, though she still felt awful, she no longer felt as if she was dying.
“Girl’s a healer, even when she’s trying to kill me,” Jalia said quietly as she rolled away from Gally’s kicks and got to her feet. A few seconds later Gally was held against the wall with Jalia’s knife against her throat. She tried to work out exactly how that happened. It was all so fast.
Jalia wondered why she hadn’t already killed the girl and why her knife seemed so reluctant to slit her throat. She pulled the knife away and punched the girl in the face, knocking her unconscious with a single blow from her left hand.
Minutes later Daniel ran into the cottage with the willow bark to find Jalia bending over Gally, tying her hands together with cloth she had cut from a bed sheet. Gally was beginning to wake and stared at Jalia with frightened darting eyes.
