The Whispers of War [Wells End Chronicles Book 2]

by Robert Beers

  “Ok,” Sari followed as her mother and Nicoll moved Jonas as well as the quilt back to his bedroom.

  They tucked him in and then retired back to the front room. Nicoll continued walking into the kitchen, “I'm going to brew up some tisane, mind if I use your makings?”

  “No, not at all.”

  Sari climbed out of her chair and walked back to the hallway “I'm gonna stay with Jonas mommy.”

  “You do that sweetings,” Ellona smiled.

  “She's a very perceptive girl,” Nicoll called out of the kitchen while she prepared the pot for boiling.

  Ellona didn't answer right away but picked at a rough spot on a nail, “Jonas didn't even stir while I carried him. Will he wake at all?” Her voice broke slightly.

  Nicoll came back into Ellona's front room, “All I can tell you is that none of the others did.” She sighed, “In a way it's sort of a blessing. At least he's in no pain, not while he's sleeping.”

  The pot whistling came in on top of Ellona's answer, “Yes, at least there's that. Do you know where the tisane mix is?”

  “I remember from seeing you put it away all the times I've been over here,” Nicoll went to the cupboard and removed the stoneware Tisane jar. She talked while she poured the boiling water over the dry mix, “Sammel is making his rounds this morning. He came by my place before you sent Sari over and he should be back at his office by noon. I think we should go over there after we've had these cups.”

  She turned to look Ellona in the eye, “And don't tell me we should go right now. You're worried to a frazzle and I don't blame you for it, but the Tisane will help calm your nerves and put you in a better frame of mind to talk to Sammel.”

  “He will help, won't he?” Ellona sounded doubtful.

  Nicoll barked out a short laugh, “When have you known him not to? Of course he'll help. Sammel always does, unless you happen to be one of those who like to live off the charity of others. But you're not that type and everyone in this part of town knows that. Here, drink your Tisane.”

  They finished the beverage and Ellona had to admit that it did help to calm her a bit. After making sure Sari and Nicoll's children knew which neighbor to go to if there was trouble, and assuring that the neighbor knew of this, she and Nicoll headed down the street toward Sammel's office.

  The old man kept a small accounting office in a location central to his many properties making it convenient for him and those he rented to. A first, second and third glance the storefront appeared somewhat shabby and cramped compared to the largess of its occupant. Unbeknownst to most of those he did business with, Sammel liked it that way. It put off those with a tendency to equate wealth with attitude and those who would attempt to take advantage. He also felt it helped to set at ease many of those who owed him money. Whether or not he was correct in this is a matter left to speculation. Being the landlord he could do with the building as he wished and Sammel wished to remember his roots.

  Sammel wasn't in when Ellona and Nicoll arrived at his door so they waited. The day was pleasant with a slight breeze helping to cool the early autumn heat. Nicoll chose a corner of the old man's stoop and sat. Ellona tried to sit but could not control her agitation so she got up and paced back and forth. “What is keeping him? Every minute that goes by is another minute Jonas may not have. We have to find out where that healer is and get to him. We have to.”

  “I'm aware of that, Ellona, try to relax a little. You'll wear yourself out with all this rushing about. Sammel will get here when he gets here. We're not his only tenants you know,” Nicoll leaned forward and looked left and right down the street. There was no sign of the old man and in this location he would have been easy to spot. Sammel's office sat facing one of the wider streets in Berggren. To the right, facing east was the western boundary of Carriel Park, a well-planted expanse with many duck ponds, flower gardens and ancient trees. One of those trees occupied a prominent position at the park's southwestern corner across from Sammel's front door. An oaken bench encircled the base of the tree. A few couples sat there enjoying the shade and each other's company.

  To the left, facing west, Park Avenue merged into two other streets creating a wide “Y". Anyone approaching the office from that way would have been seen before they cleared three cobblestones. As it was still a few hours before noon, the foot traffic was light with most of those out and about taking their sweet time in reaching their destination.

  Nicoll watched Ellona pace back and forth for several minutes until she could stand it no longer. She stood up and joined her friend in her pacing, “Now I'm starting to get worried. Where is that old man, he's never been this late to his office.”

  “If he isn't here in the next few minutes I'm going to start asking questions around town myself,” Ellona stopped and turned to face Nicoll, “I have to, for Jonas’ sake.”

  “Well,” Nicoll replied, “I think I'd ... there he is!” She pointed over to where Shilling Street ended at the “Y” intersection.

  Ellona looked. It was Sammel. The old man had his hands in his pockets and a pipe in his mouth. Small puffs of white smoke wafted along behind him as he made his way down Shilling Street's steep slope onto the more level expanse of Park Avenue. She didn't wait for him to reach where she and Nicoll waited but gathered her skirts into her hands and ran to meet him.

  Sammel looked up from his examination of the cobblestones to see Ellona rushing towards him. He stopped short and pulled his pipe from his mouth, “Well, Ellona, and a good morning to you. How's Ethan, have you heard from him yet? Has he found that lad, Circumstance was it?”

  “It's Jonas,” Ellona panted.

  “No,” Sammel replaced his pipe and spoke as he puffed, “No, I'm sure the name was Circumstance. You don't forget a name like that.”

  “My child Jonas, he's dying!” Her exasperation made Ellona's voice tight with anger and she nearly shouted the words at the old man.

  “What? Oh my good lord. Come with me my dear, into my office, we'll sit and you can tell me what this is all about,” He led Ellona into his office. Nicoll followed and shut the door after herself.

  Sammel wasted no time on courtly mannerisms. He directed Ellona into a chair across from his desk, sat himself onto the one bare corner of its top, tapped out his pipe and nodded, “All right, what's this about Jonas, is he really dying?”

  Nicoll broke in before Ellona could answer, “The child's come down with the Chills Sammel, we need you to tell us where we can find the healer.”

  “Healer?” Sammel blinked.

  “The one Nicoll heard about, the one they say can heal anything, including the Chills.” Tears coursed down Ellona's cheek, “Jonas won't even wake up now, Sammel. Please, please help me.”

  “Of course I'll help you. You and Ethan are two of my favorite people,” He got up and paced around his office for a few seconds while rubbing his chin. He stopped and turned his head toward the two women, “The Chills? You said the boy's got the Chills?”

  Ellona and Nicoll both nodded.

  “Only one that I know of can do the job. The Chills, Bardoc bless him. Poor child's only got one chance. Going to be a trip getting there. Best get together a team and a wagon to do it.” The old man spoke half to himself while he restuffed and lit his pipe.

  Nicoll stepped away from the wall she was leaning against, “Does all that mean you're going to help us find this man?”

  Sammel nodded vigorously while he puffed, “Oh certainly, certainly, except for one thing.”

  An icy hand gripped Ellona's heart, Jonas, her Jonas, “What thing?”

  “This particular healer isn't a man, he's a Dwarf.”

  * * * *

  “Jonas!” Ethan sat bolt upright in his bunk as he yelled out the boy's name. It was now a week after his fight with the brutish Gros. The Lieutenant and his Sergeant seemed to treat him with more respect since that day and it also seemed his name still carried a reputation even after all these years. It didn't stop the dreams though and this one h
ad been the worst. Jonas had lain dying and in the dream he'd been incapable of helping the boy. His hands could not or would not grasp him. They passed through Jonas’ body like those of a ghost and all his straining was to no avail.

  “Pipe down, will ya? I'm tryin’ to sleep here.”

  “Freakin’ skrud. Go outside iffn yer gonna yell.”

  Those and other less generous comments voiced by sleepy conscripts floated his way in the darkened barracks. Ethan felt the dream was more than just that. During his youth, especially in times of battle, he'd been visited before by hints what was to come. He'd learned to listen to them and in those occasions where the feeling had been wrong, he'd learned to be grateful for that blessing.

  He eased himself out of his bunk and pulled on his uniform while still sitting. Thankfully the barracks floor was of stone slabs instead of planking. There would be no chance of a creaking board to give his escape away.

  His boots slid on easily, the soft leather tops having been broken in by miles of marching as well as running. Weapons, he had none other than those contained in his mind and body but they would do until he found a blade.

  The man in the bunk before him stirred and Ethan froze with his last boot partially on. He waited, not even breathing, while the fellow rustled around in his bedclothes. After what seemed an eternity the man let out a sigh and settled back into the rhythm of sleep.

  “That's it, Falon, sleep easy, tomorrow's a big day,” Ethan murmured the words under his breath as he tiptoed toward the barracks door.

  No one else stirred and the night sentries were on the opposite side of the barracks as he passed through the door onto the parade ground. A glance at the moon told him it was about two hours before dawn. If he could make it to the wall without being seen, a steady pace would have him a good five miles or more away from the city before they noticed he was missing. The search would probably encompass the city first and that could burn another hour or two. With any luck he'd be in the forests long before they extended the hunt beyond the city walls.

  Unlike those of the officers and the regulars, Ethan shared a barracks with other conscripts set into the far side of the complex. The parade ground extended to the south and west from the barracks’ door. Between Ethan and the only safe route out of the complex lay a vast open expanse lit by watch torches. He would have to cross that before he could gain the relative security of the outbuildings and supply sheds that occupied the area to the east of the main gates. At any given time one of the sentries could spot him and raise the alarm. As Ethan ran this through his mind his thoughts of being lost in the forest dwindled away into a vague uncertainty. A brief wind brought the smell of the stables to his nose and he thought of stealing a horse, thereby being able to place more distance between himself and the eventual pursuit, but that thought was quickly stashed as unworkable.

  A movement off to his left sent him back into the shadows of the barracks doorway. He watched with every nerve poised on the brink of chaos as a tall figure walked past, headed in the direction of the officer's quarters. The figure walked with a familiar gait. Ethan puzzled at this for a brief moment and then shook off the feeling, he didn't need to waste his time over trivialities, and he had to get home.

  One of the sentries rounded the corner of the regular guard barracks and called out for the figure to halt. Almost instantly two more sentries appeared and ran toward the point where the figure and the first sentry would meet.

  Ethan could not believe his luck; here was the break he'd been hoping for. While the four men were engaged he slipped out of the doorway and cut along the side of the barracks until he could dash over to the complex wall. This would mean adding at least four times the amount of ground he would have to cover but that ground would be in the darkness of deep shadow. Much more preferable than the light being cast by the watch torches placed around the parade ground. He glanced left and right and then sprinted the ten yards from the rear of the barracks to the complex wall.

  The shadow cast by the wall extended only a few feet onto the parade ground floor but that was enough to swallow Ethan's form. He sidled along the edge carefully, trying to move smoothly but not so slowly as to eat up the little time he had.

  The trio of guards and the tall one came into sight as he passed the blocking corner of the barracks. By their stances, the guards seemed to be listening to some sort of explanation, listening with the deference of those who knew and respected the speaker.

  Again that feeling of familiarity washed over Ethan. He knew the speaker from somewhere; he just couldn't dredge the whereabouts from his memory. Shaking his head, Ethan pulled himself from the reverie and moved on. Another section of wall and he would be in striking distance of the first of the outbuildings. He didn't have the time to piece together that puzzle.

  As Ethan concentrated on his escape he did not see the figure dismiss the sentries and then glance his way as if the covering shadow was no cover at all. Nor did he see the decisive nod before the tall man turned on his heel and began walking purposively toward the juncture of the main gate and the small guard hut set just inside the massive timbers.

  Ethan let out the breath he'd been holding as he snuck out from behind a nondescript storage shed and quickly stepped into the blackness between the last outbuilding and the wall containing the main gates.

  “Isn't it a little late to be taking the night air?”

  Ethan spun around, his hand reaching for a sword that wasn't there.

  “Or maybe you're an early riser that hasn't realized the mess isn't open yet,” The voice held a droll amusement and it sparked a distant memory that hovered just beyond reach.

  “I'm waiting,” The speaker's face was hidden in the shadows of the darkened guard hut. Ten yards separated him from Ethan; enough for a dash but he couldn't be sure the man hadn't seen him.

  Ethan stepped out of his hiding place. It wasn't doing him any good regardless, and he may need to be within striking distance of whoever was speaking to him.

  “That's close enough, thank you,” The voice from the hut stopped Ethan's march so that he now stood in front of the gates.

  For several heartbeats nothing was said. Ethan's mind raced, turning over scenario after scenario and finding none of them comforting.

  “You look familiar,” The voice no longer held that sense of humor.

  Ethan's mouth twitched, “Maybe you saw me come in with the rest of the conscripts.”

  “Perhaps, but I don't think that's it, the memory's older. Where are you from, what's your name?”

  “Why should I tell you?” Ethan held his head up. At least they wouldn't take him back cowering like a beaten dog.

  The man in the hut stepped into the moonlight. His expression showed angry concern. “Damn it man, I want to help you! Answer my question.”

  Ethan blinked. All the pieces of the puzzle came rushing together, “Adam?” He took another step towards the guard hut, “Adam, is that you?”

  Adam took his hand off his sword. He knew this man from somewhere. It was obvious the man knew him. “You know me, but that could be from mess room gossip. I seem to have gotten a bit of a reputation over the last few seasons. Answer my question.”

  “Ethan, my name is Ethan, remember? I led you and your sister through the forest from Silgert to Dunwattle. You woke me out of a drunken stupor and cured the world's worst hangover, if I remember our meeting rightly,” Ethan smiled ruefully.

  “I remember,” Adam nodded. “You also look a little different from what I remember.”

  Ethan ran a hand through his hair, “A little more gray, a few more creases around the eyes, plus I've lost a few pounds thanks to this place's wonderful cooking. I remember you as being shorter, skinnier and a lot younger looking. You're no longer a boy Adam, you've grown up.”

  Adam sighed, “That's right Ethan, I've grown up. Along with that I've added some responsibilities. One of them deals with this city and it's safety. I'm an officer in this guard, Ethan, and it looks an awf
ul lot to me like you're thinking about deserting,” Adam kept his voice low but the words struck Ethan as if they'd been shouted.

  “I didn't volunteer, Adam, I was kidnapped, chained and force-marched to this place. There's nothing here that deserves my loyalty. To add to that, I've got a family now and I'm sure they're missing me,” Ethan's answer was spoken as quietly as Adam's accusation.

  The news rocked Adam, Ethan, the drunk, with a family? Now he understood the motivation behind the man's actions. But that still didn't remove the responsibility from his own shoulders.

  He shrugged. “As much as I'd like to, Ethan, I can't do anything about that now. Conscription, under a time of war, is legal here. I'm sure you know that as much, or better, than I do.”

  “Who goes there?” The demand was followed by the sound of running feet. Ethan turned to see if he had time to fade back into the shadows and slumped. All three sentries were headed their way. Both he and Adam were clearly in their sight. Any attempt to escape now would merely compound his error.

  Adam reached out and took Ethan by the shoulder, “Leave this to me and don't say a word. I've gotten rather good at lying lately.” He didn't take notice of the sharp look Ethan sent him.

  Two of the sentries reached them several steps ahead of the third. The first pulled up short and thumped his chest in a quick salute, “Lieutenant! We thought you'd've gone back to your quarters by now. Thought you might be southern spies or some such.”

  “Now Corporal,” Adam flashed the noncom a winning smile, “do you think I really look like a member of the southern army?”

  The Corporal swallowed and then offered a weak smile, “No Milord Lieutenant, Of course not.”

  Adam's smile broadened, “Of course not,” he repeated, “Now why don't you and your fellow sentries continue on about your duties while my Sergeant and I finish our business.”

  Ethan's eyes shifted toward Adam at the word “Sergeant” while at the same time the Corporal and his men focused their attention on Ethan.

  “Sergeant?” The portly one who trailed the others in their dash narrowed his eyes as he looked Ethan up and down, “He ain't no Sergeant, he come in wi’ the others on the chain. Ain't no way he's a three-stripe.”