by Mark McCabe
Unfortunately, it was impossible for them to stop and allow him the rest he needed. It was enough that they had to spell the horses from time to time, but that was all they could afford. Even those spells were becoming less frequent now that they had two extra horses. After they re-dressed Rayne’s wound, they changed over once more, mounting Ned and Nell again and leading the new horses as they pushed on.
Sara felt the despair she had slipped into back in her cell returning. Try as she could to maintain hope, deep down she felt sure it was only a matter of time now before Tug and his friends would catch up with them. She chided herself for having allowed Rayne to be shot by their attackers when she was supposed to be keeping watch. If she had been doing her job properly she would have heard them approaching, and she knew she should never have gone off by herself like that without first waking Rayne.
She toyed with the idea of giving herself up to Tug and his men. She knew Rayne would never allow it, but thought about waiting until he was asleep and creeping away, back along their trail, until Tug found her. If recapture was inevitable anyway, then at least she could save Rayne. There was no point in him throwing his life away senselessly on a lost cause.
With a deep sense of shame, Sara knew she wouldn’t be able to do it, that to give herself up to Tug meant her certain death, and probably much worse before that. She also knew that her cowardice was probably dooming Rayne to a similar fate. As she struggled with her conscience, she reminded herself of her resolution, to not give in, to fight, to the bitter end if she had to. Rayne would have to make his own choices. He knew what they were up against just as well as she did.
She tried to think more positively, turning her mind to what they should now do. From what Rayne had told her, she figured they must be only two or three days away from getting out of the wilderness. With the additional horses they now had access to, perhaps there was a chance they might yet be able to keep ahead of their pursuers for long enough. If Rayne could keep going, that is.
Her own headache had finally cleared. The side of her head was still sore to the touch; otherwise, she was fine, just a little bit tired. Rayne was in pretty bad shape, though. What’s more, if his arm was infected he would only get worse. Somehow, she would have to help him to keep going for the moment, and then get him some medical attention as soon as they cleared the wilderness. Presumably, the nearest decent sized town would have someone who could attend to his wound.
Sara also resolved that she would have to start taking over some of the responsibilities Rayne had been bearing until now. Although there was no avoiding their dependency on his knowledge of the wilderness, she could do more of the thinking for them from now on and start to make more of the decisions. He had been looking after her up to this point. Now it was time for her to look after him.
At their next break, she questioned him about where they were heading and what path he had planned for them over the next few days. When they resumed, having swapped horses again, she took the lead, allowing him to follow along in her wake while she kept an eye on the trail. She’d already noticed that the twisting and turning which had typified their path on earlier days had been given up since Rayne had sustained his wound. He’d been finding it difficult enough just to stay mounted, without the added burden of trying to conceal their trail. With her in the lead, Rayne seemed content just to sit back and rest. He was tiring quickly now and Sara realised her decision to take the initiative had been a timely one. His fever was obviously worsening.
To add to their troubles, rain set in about mid-afternoon. It was only drizzle, but they quickly donned their wet weather gear anyway. Rayne had his own and Sara put on the hat and coat she’d found in Ned’s saddlebags. As the evening approached, it began to bucket down and they both felt their spirits sinking as they trudged along through the mud and the slush. Despite their coats, the rain still managed to get in under their clothing and by the time they stopped for the night they were both soaked to the skin. They made camp under the lee of a cliff, a slight overhang providing some relief from the downpour.
Fortunately, the rain cleared for a while then, giving them a chance to change out of their wet clothes and make decent arrangements for a dry night. They used one of their groundsheets to make a rough tent, small though it was. Once they’d tended to the horses, they both squirmed into it, glad to be finally under some shelter. After a quiet meal, they lay down for the night, both of them huddling under their blankets. Sara lay on her side, with Rayne right behind her, clinging closely to her in an attempt to keep warm.
They chatted for a while. Although they were both very tired, neither was ready for sleep. They’d already agreed they’d dispense with a lookout. The risk they ran had to be balanced against their need for rest.
Sara took some heart when Rayne told her the storm should help them by washing away their tracks. She was aware they hadn’t made much more ground that day than they had on previous ones, despite the fresh horses. Slowly their talk turned away from their immediate concerns. For a while Rayne talked of his father, telling Sara of his life as a mercenary before he had settled down with Rayne’s mother on the Marches.
“Rayne, tell me a story,” Sara asked when he seemed to have finished. “I’d love to hear about something that doesn’t involve wars or fighting for a change.”
Rayne thought for a while. He told Sara that although he’d heard many stories from his father over the years he wasn’t used to telling them himself. “All right,” he eventually said. “I’ll tell you about Jesec and Ranoran.”
Sara rolled over to face him, propping herself up on one elbow. Her eyes twinkled with a mixture of interest and expectation. Rayne did the same, propping himself up on his good arm as he lay facing her. Because of the limited space available in the makeshift tent, there was only a small gap between them. Outside they could both hear the wind as it gusted through the surrounding trees.
“Ranoran,” began Rayne, as a shower of water, shaken loose from the branches above them, rattled across the roof of their tent, “was a wealthy man with many servants and vast properties. One day he was out walking near the boundary of one of his estates, where his land merged with the wild woods, when he spied an old oak tree, almost ready to fall over. As he had a number of his servants with him, he ordered them to gather stakes to prop the tree up, saying it was too elegant and beautiful a thing to be allowed to fall to the ground.
“The nearby woods were said to be as ancient as the hills themselves and had always been known as a mysterious and magical place. Unbeknown to Ranoran, a nymph, who had come down from the woods many years ago, now inhabited the oak, and she had been on the point of perishing along with the ageing tree.
“His servants soon finished their task and returned to the house, leaving him alone, gazing up at the old tree. As he stood there, admiring its grace and beauty, he was astonished to see the nymph emerge from the trunk of the tree, stepping out on to the ground right before his very eyes. The nymph took the form of a maiden and she was the most beautiful girl Ranoran had ever seen.”
Sara was fascinated by the tale. She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but the story Rayne was telling reminded her of the fables her mother used to read to her in bed when she was much younger.
Rayne continued. “Ranoran fell to his knees. Knowing the creature before him was a magical being, he was afraid he had offended it in some way and that it had come forth seeking retribution. Instead of chastising him, as he expected, however, the nymph bade him to rise and when he did so she stepped forward and embraced him, kissing him lightly on each cheek and then hugging him to her. Standing back again, the nymph thanked Ranoran for saving her life and told him she would grant him a reward for his kindness.”
“Is this a true story?” interrupted Sara when Rayne took a brief pause. “Are there really tree nymphs in Ilythia? Have you seen one?”
“I’m not sure if it is,” replied Rayne. “I’ve certainly never seen one, but I’ve heard they have been seen in
some places.” Sara nodded thoughtfully at his response.
“Ranoran,” he went on, “was besotted by the nymph’s beauty and boldly asked for her love as his prize. To his delight, she readily agreed and immediately lay down with him beneath the bows of the tree. There she willingly yielded herself to his desire. When they had finished making love, Ranoran asked the nymph if he could see her again, telling her he’d never met anyone like her before. She agreed, but on the condition that Ranoran remain a faithful and constant lover.
“From that day on they became lovers. The nymph told Ranoran she would send a honeybee to him as her messenger. Whenever it arrived, he would know to come to the grove where she would be waiting for him. The bee came often to Ranoran’s villa, and whenever it did he would rise from whatever it was he was doing and go out to the edge of the woods for a tryst with the nymph, lying down with her beneath the creaking limbs of the old oak tree.
“This went on for some time. At first, Ranoran was delighted and his heart swelled with love for the nymph. As time passed, however, his passion cooled. One day, when the bee came to summon him, he was playing at dice with a friend. He was so engrossed in his game that he took no notice of the bee, idly swatting at it as it buzzed around his head. Eventually, the bee gave up trying to get his attention and returned to the nymph.
“The nymph waited for Ranoran in the grove. When the bee returned to her and she found out what had happened, she flew into a rage, casting a spell on Ranoran as she did so. The spell rendered Ranoran blind, in that very instant, and the nymph decreed that he would remain so until he learnt the value of love and constancy.”
“So it’s not just the Guardians who can cast spells?” asked Sara, interrupting him again. “There might be all sorts of beings in Ilythia who can do that.”
“I don’t know,” said Rayne with a slight frown. “You could be right. But remember, I said I didn’t know whether this was a true story. I haven’t seen a nymph myself.”
“I suppose you’d like to,” teased Sara. “Especially if they’re all as friendly as this one was.”
Rayne blushed in response to her jibe. Ignoring her comment, he quickly went on with his story. “Ranoran and his friend were confounded at what had happened to him. When Ranoran finally guessed what had happened, however, he bade his servants to lead him to the grove. Upon arriving at the oak, he begged the nymph to come forth and forgive him, but to no avail. He stayed there for much of the day, pleading with the nymph to listen to him and to forgive him for his thoughtlessness. Eventually, when she showed no sign of responding, he returned to his villa, full of despair. Though he returned to the oak many times in the coming days, the result was always the same.
“As time passed, Ranoran, through his blindness, began to lose all of his wealth. His business associates cheated him and he could no longer properly oversee the work on his properties. In a very short time, he lost everything. He soon ended up as a pauper, forced to wander the land with a cane, begging for food and shelter.
“One day, his wanderings brought him to the home of a young widow. Her name was Jesec and she took pity on him, offering him shelter for the night. When he told her his story, she felt so sorry for his condition that she allowed him to stay on in her house. While he gave her what help he could with the chores, she cooked for him and looked after him, sharing her meagre earnings with him in her pity for his plight.
“Over time, Jesec began to fall in love with Ranoran, who had changed as a result of his fate. Instead of the proud and haughty landowner he’d once been, he had become a more humble and compassionate man. He began to find that he cared for Jesec as well. Finally, they began to fall into a deep love for each other and, as their love grew, Ranoran found that his blindness slowly began to diminish.
“At first he began to be aware of light where once there’d only been darkness. Eventually, the light coalesced into shapes and, on the day Jesec asked him if he would marry her, his full vision returned. The happy couple rejoiced at this and married that very day in celebration. Their love for each other continued to grow and they stayed together for the rest of their days. They had two children together, a boy and a girl; but that is another story.”
Sara smiled at the stylised ending to the story. For someone who usually concealed his feelings, to her surprise, Rayne had told a very tender story about love and the capriciousness of the gods.
“I’m going to miss you Sara,” blurted Rayne suddenly, interrupting her thoughts. Looking up she found that he was looking straight into her eyes.
“What do you mean?” she replied, uncertain as to what had brought this on.
“It’s not fair,” exclaimed Rayne. “No matter what happens to us, I lose you. If the people chasing us catch up with us, I lose you. And if we escape, you’ll eventually find some way to get back home and then I’ll lose you that way. Either way, I’m going to miss you very much when you’re gone.”
“Oh Rayne, you’re so sweet.” Sara felt her eyes blur as she reached out and caressed his cheek with her hand. To her surprise, she saw a tear fall from the corner of Rayne’s eyes and run down his cheek. Turning his head slightly, he opened his lips and gently kissed the fingers touching his cheek.
Sara gasped at his touch. “Oh Rayne,” she cried. Leaning over closer to him, she tentatively opened her lips, closing her eyes as she saw him do the same. As their lips touched, she felt the spark of desire flame into passion. Without a further thought, she hugged Rayne to her, allowing the feeling that was sweeping through her to guide her. They lay together like that for a few moments, kissing passionately as their bodies entwined, twisting and pressing against each other in the close confines of the tent. Then, with a gasp, Sara broke off the kiss and lay back. Her chest heaved as she looked up at the roof of the tent.
They both lay there panting until Rayne broke the silence. “If I said I was sorry, I’d be lying,” he finally said between breaths.
Sara rolled over towards him and kissed his lips once more, pulling back as his kisses became more ardent again. “I’m not sorry, either,” said Sara, looking down at him with sparkling eyes, her face only inches from his. “It’s just that I need to take things a bit slower. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Rayne, taking a deep breath.
“Let’s just talk,” said Sara, lying back. “I need to calm down.”
“At least I forgot about my arm for a while,” replied Rayne with a smile.
Chapter 11
Tug was worried. He didn’t dare go back to Golkar without the girl and yet it had been ten days now and they still hadn’t caught up with them. He knew they were close, but they’d been close before and still not managed to close the trap. Whoever it was that the girl had latched on to, he wasn’t making their job an easy one.
Twice now they’d been lucky not to lose a horse to those damned traps he’d been setting. The first time, Tug himself had taken a fall when his horse had been brought down by a vine stretched across their path on a steep decline, about fetlock high. It was a miracle the horse hadn’t broken something and Tug himself had been lucky to escape serious injury from the tumble he’d taken as the horse had come down.
That had slowed them. Then, two days later, luck once again was all that had prevented them from losing one of their horses. They’d been spelling their mounts and Rewin, their tracker, had been leading his on foot. By pure chance, he’d sighted a beaver trap, partially hidden by a smattering of twigs and leaves, right in the middle of their path. That had slowed them even further. And now, just when they were starting to make some progress again, the rain had set in.
The three of them had camped for the night and were now sheltering from the rain in their tent. As Tug unwound from yet another long day in the saddle, he considered his mismatched helpers. He’d known both of them for a few years now and they’d worked together a number of times. Rewin was a master of forest craft. Tug had found that there wasn’t a living thing he couldn’t track. To look at him, though, with his
wiry frame, his pinched cheeks and receding hairline, he didn’t seem like he’d be much of a help if it came to a fight. Tug knew better. Rewin could handle himself when he needed to as well as anyone Tug had ridden with.
Ter, on the other hand, was a big oaf by comparison, all brute strength with little finesse. He had his own uses, though. More than once his single-minded determination had gotten Ruz and Tug out of tight situations. And he fought like a demon. He didn’t know how to lose or when to give up.
“I don’t like it,” said Tug, more to voice his frustration than seeking a response from either of his companions. “This rain is gunna make it damned difficult to track them now.”
“That depends on how soon it lets up,” responded Rewin, as he slowly chewed on a piece of dry meat. “Soft ground can make it easier, as long as the rain doesn’t wash the tracks away before we find them.”
“They can’t be far ahead now, anyways,” snarled Ter, as he sharpened his knife on a stone. “We gotta be right on their hammer. Tomorrow, next day at the latest, we’re gunna catch the villain that did Kyrt in. He’s got a lot to answer for, the cur. When I git my hands on him I’m gunna give him one, not just for Kyrt but for old Jard as well.”
