by J Seab
Willow took a slow breath to steady herself.
It had been at least an hour since she had heard any noise from the beach. The wind had died and along with it the drifting smoke from the smoldering fire. She rose from her hiding place and quietly picked her way to the edge of the limestone outcropping.
A gibbous moon peered over the trees to the east like a baleful eye spying out her every move. Suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable, Willow hunkered down and tried to blend into the shadows of tree and rock that draped across the outcropping.
To all appearances, the camp had retired for the night.
She had to go down there to find Geldane.
A thin strand of desperate hope pulled her forward on shaky legs. She didn’t feel at all like the heroic adventurer. She was terrified. Maybe her imagination was running amok too but she had no other choice.
Keeping low, her pack left behind, she carefully picked her way toward the camp, pausing frequently to listen for any disturbance in the forest sounds.
She worked her way around to the south so she could approach from behind, staying well clear of the perimeter of the work site. The trees thinned ahead. She could dimly make out the hulk of the new building looming in the shadows. Crouched low, she dashed to a thick stand of brush at the edge of the clearing and peered around it.
The building on her left was only partly finished. A four-meter section was completely enclosed. A skeleton framework with half-built timber walls extended for another ten meters. A pile of cut logs lay just behind the unfinished side. To her right, she could see down to the beach. The fire smoldered, shedding puffs of smoke that curled upward to dissipate in the air above. An orange glow illuminated the surrounding area, barely overcoming the wash of moonlight. She could barely make out a man-sized lump in the sand nearby. A sentry? She watched for a while, thought she detected some motion, but wasn’t certain.
Now what? she thought. How can I find out what happened to Geldane? Look for a dead body cast into the woods? She shuddered, head and heart aching, feeling almost overwhelmed.
A hand reached around and covered her mouth, stifling her scream. Eyes wild, she tried to jerk free, thrashing. A face loomed into view, deeply shadowed in the faint moonlight.
Her heart leaped. She knew this face. Impossibly, it was Rengade.
He slid his hand free, his touch lingering the briefest of moments as his face softened.
Mouth hanging open, tears filled Willow’s eyes. She grabbed him in a fierce hug, not caring if he objected.
She drew back, elation battling with concern, and whispered, “How?” Then, flustered, “You’re alive.”
Rengade offered no explanation.
He rose to a crouch and pulled at her arm, pointing to the back of the enclosed room. He signed, “Geldane.”
Hope constricted Willow’s throat. Did he mean Geldane’s body was there or could he still be alive? “Geldane, he’s alive?” she signed, fearful.
Rengade nodded, waving her forward. “Come,” he signed, “we’ll free him now.”
Willow staggered with relief.
They crept to the back wall and located a gap in the newly fitted timbers. Willow pressed her lips to it and called softly, “Geldane.” She heard a rustle within and then a voice.
“Willow, that you?”
“Geldane,” Willow said, a spasm of relief gushing through her, “are you alright?”
“Only a scratch or two,” he said, sounding sullen, upset.
Rengade touched her shoulder, told her to wait here, that he’d go around to the front and open the door. Willow nodded, understanding. He stepped to the left and slipped over the unfinished wall. Willow watched him go, then put her lips back to the gap. “Rengade is here. He’s coming around to open the door.”
She heard a gasp of surprise. “Rengade?”
“He’ll be there in a moment. Go to the door.”
She heard him scramble away. She crawled to the corner, peeked around it, and watched the lump near the fire. It remained quiescent.
A soft scrape sounded behind her. She turned. Geldane limped toward her, one leg dragging slightly in the fresh dirt. She stood, rushed over, and hugged him, her eyes closed tightly against a threatened flood of tears.
A touch drew her attention. Rengade signed that they must go. With a final squeeze, Willow stepped back and grabbed Geldane’s hand. “Your leg, is it injured?” she whispered.
“It’s fine. Come on, let’s get out of here before someone comes.”
The three of them retraced Willow’s route back upslope to her observation post in the rocks where they rested for a few minutes and considered their options. Rengade indicated that they should continue south, over the hump of the island to the south shore. He said it was several kilometers. Geldane, acting subdued, offered few arguments. Willow, weary physically and emotionally, decided to leave their pack. There wasn’t anything in it worth hauling, she thought as they fled south.
Rengade quickened the pace. He moved effortlessly, silently, ahead of them, picking the easiest path through and around the tangles of undergrowth. The moon, higher now, provided little help lighting their way beneath the canopy of trees. At least they weren’t groping their way through complete darkness. Without Rengade leading the way, they’d have quickly become disoriented and frustrated. Geldane, his face twisted in a grimace of determination, focused on the ground in front of him. Fresh blood stained his right pants leg. Worried, Willow followed closely at his side. He was in his long-suffering hero mode, bound to conquer adversity despite the overwhelming obstacles thrust before him. There wasn’t much she could do now, anyway.
A couple of hours later, Rengade slowed their pace. A meadow opened before them. Tall grasses and a profusion of yellow and white flowered plants swayed in undulating waves as flurries of wind swooped through a field comparatively bright from the moonlight.
Willow decided they had to stop for a rest. Geldane wasn’t doing well. He would never admit it but he was near collapse. She called to Rengade and signed that they needed to rest. He nodded.
She escorted Geldane to a fallen tree along the edge. “Sit there so I can check your wound.”
Geldane didn’t argue. He dropped onto the log with a low moan.
Rengade joined them, offered her his knife, and then turned back to check their trail.
She split Geldane’s pants leg to expose the wound and gently probed around its edge. It was an angry looking but shallow puncture. Bright blood oozed around flaky dark patches of clotted tissue.
“This must be treated,” Willow announced, grimacing, “and bound before we can continue.” She cut his pants off above the wound, tucked the material through her belt. Standing, she told him, “Rest here, I’ll see what I can find.”
Geldane muttered something and closed his eyes, his face splotchy and his breathing irregular.
After a moment’s hesitation, Willow waded into the meadow. It was narrow but stretched into a large, open patch upslope to her left. Pines and a scattering of oak and hickory resumed on the far side.
She looked around for something suitable as she worked her way across. It didn’t take long to spot the white, lacy blooms of yarrow. That would have to do. She cut several stalks, folded them, and tucked them into a pocket. Glancing around, she decided to take a quick look in the woods on the opposite side of the meadow for water. She felt exposed but didn’t think anyone from the encampment would be out here yet, hoping they hadn’t discovered Geldane’s escape.
She pushed ahead, entered the woods, and paused to listen. There was no clamor of discovery but she did hear the faint sound of water gurgling through rocks. She hurried over to it. A small rivulet danced down a slope squeezing through jumbles of large boulders crusted with lichens. She climbed down to the stream, bent down, and scooped out several handfuls of water. The water was sweet and satisfying. She turned around and rushed back to fetch Geldane.
Geldane was sleeping fitfully, now sitting on the groun
d with his back propped against the log.
“Geldane,” she called, gently shaking his shoulder.
His eyes cracked open, his posture wary. He relaxed once he saw Willow leaning over him. “Time to go?” he asked.
“I found a fresh stream. It’s only a little way.” She held his arm, steadying him while he pushed against the log to help him get to his feet.
“Where’s Rengade?” he asked between clenched teeth.
“He’s checking our trail.”
“Shouldn’t we wait?”
“He’ll find us. We need to get you to the stream so I can wash and treat your wound. Then, maybe, we can rest for a bit.”
“Yup hup,” he said, forcing a grin.
“Can you make it?” she asked anxiously.
“My leg is a little stiff but otherwise I’m fine. My biggest problem is that I don’t have my bo anymore. Could use some of that water you found, though.” His grin widened, becoming more natural. “I don’t suppose you still have that apple on you?”
“Come on,” Willow said, lightly punching his shoulder. “You and that cavernous belly. Never satisfied.”
Once he got moving, Geldane’s leg loosened up. They quickly covered the short trek to the stream. Geldane, injured leg stretched beside him, stooped low, splashed water into his face, and then drank several handfuls. Next, Willow had him sit on a large rock beside the stream while she rinsed the pants remnant.
“This might hurt some,” she said, wet cloth in hand.
“Do I need a stick to bite on?” he asked, half-jesting.
“I think you’ll survive without one.”
“Do it, then.”
Willow thoroughly scrubbed his wound. It didn’t look as bad once she washed off the dried blood. It was a clean cut. Needed a couple of stitches but that would have to wait. She glanced up at Geldane’s face. He seemed to be bearing it with stoic indifference. He’s made of sterner stuff than I am, she mused. I’d no doubt need that stick or I’d be screaming about now.
Pinching the wound open, she squeezed more water through it. Geldane finally offered a comment, his voice barely masking the strain. “Err, isn’t that clean enough?”
“Yes, I suppose.” She sat back. “Do you still have your handkerchief?”
Geldane reached into his pocket, withdrew the handkerchief, and handed it over.
Willow examined it as best she could in the dim light. “Not too clean, but it’ll have to do.” She pulled out the yarrow and tore the leaves into small pieces which she rubbed vigorously between her hands, extracting the juices within. She gently rubbed the resulting pulp into his wound, leaving a small pomace mounded over it. She cupped her hand over the wound and pressed gently for a moment. Feeling satisfied with her treatment, she next folded Geldane’s handkerchief, placed it on top, and then tied strips from his pants remnant around his leg. Not the ideal dressing but under the circumstances, better than nothing, she thought.
“Better?” she asked.
“Sure, feels great,” Geldane said between clenched teeth. He leveraged himself to his feet, flexed his leg, and tested his weight on it. “Actually,” he said, seeming relieved, “it does feel a lot better now.”
Willow smiled. Together, they walked back to the edge of the clearing.
“When do you expect Rengade?” Geldane asked.
“I don’t know, soon,” she said, easing down against a tree. Geldane joined her, keeping his leg straight as he sat and leaned against the tree close to her. They had a good view of the open meadow. It was bright enough that they could easily spot anyone coming through it. They settled in to wait for Rengade, the shadows beneath the tree deep enough to conceal them from any prying eyes.
“What happened back there?” Willow ventured, voice quiet.
“I was stupid,” he answered glumly.
Willow waited in silence for him to continue.
Geldane put his head back and closed his eyes. “I snuck up to the clearing where I could get a good view. It looked like they were winding down for the day. Somebody was roasting a raccoon, or some critter, on a spit near that building they were constructing. It looked like everybody was heading that way so I decided to get closer, see if I could eavesdrop on their conversation.” He sighed. “I thought it was dark enough to follow along at the edge of the trees where the ground was relatively clear. I thought I could move more quickly if I didn’t have to pick my way through piles of leaves and sticks.” He frowned, glanced quickly at her, and then lowered his head, fidgeting. “I guess I was wrong.”
“They saw you?” she asked.
“One of them was sucking on some kind of smoking tube not too far away. I almost walked right into him.” He turned to Willow, eyes pleading. “I didn’t expect anyone, was in a hurry to get into position. He, of course, saw me right off, yelled, and drew his sword.”
“So, they do have swords,” she said.
“Yes, they do have swords,” he repeated, with some fire flaring across his words. He immediately calmed, then resumed fidgeting. “That’s when I discovered that my bo wasn’t much use against a sword.”
After a moment, he continued, “I held my bo in a defensive stance, just as I was taught. He swung at me. I parried, thunked him a couple of times. He adjusted quickly, though, managed to stick me in the leg and followed up with a hard swing at my head. I tried to block but his sword cut right through my bo, left me standing there with two broken pieces in my hands.” He held up both hands, reliving the moment. “Instead of reacting, I just stood there, let him poke his sword against my chest, threatening to run me through. Others were running up then, yelling, swords drawn.” Geldane spread his hands. “What could I do? They grabbed me, shoved me into that room. The one I fought kicked me a few times, seemed to enjoy that. Said the captain was on their ship, that he’d interrogate me in the morning. The way he said it didn’t sound too pleasant.”
“You did the right thing,” Willow soothed him.
“I should have known better,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her, staring at his open palms again. “I knew those swords could cut right through wood, I had watched them doing it. I should have slid his swing aside rather than trying to block it.” He continued bitterly, “I lost my first real fight in less than a minute, defeated.” He looked up at her, his eyes glinting with moisture.
“You learned an important lesson from your experience. You’ll do better next time,” she assured him. “Is that defeat or victory?”
“Maybe,” Geldane said skeptically. “I don’t feel very heroic right now. If I had tried harder or was made of stouter stuff, I could have beaten that guy, pounded him into a pulp. We wouldn’t be in this situation, then.”
“Twine says that all who take the sword shall perish by the sword,” Willow said softly, head lowered.
They fell silent, Geldane still brooding, Willow was saddened by the conflicting emotions coursing through him, and through her.
Extremes of violence was something she’d never experienced in Etus. Oak Cove was a small, closely knit community that brought their diversity of skill and belief together to benefit all. No one tried to impose their will over others using tactics of domination. She struggled even to understand the rationale. How could intimidation, threat, and belligerence solve anything? Maybe in the short run those with thick muscles or sick minds might compel others to their will, but such tactics were poor motivators. In whatever guise they were wielded, they were tools of ultimate failure. Twine said violence was like forcing a boulder uphill. Eventually it will tumble down and crush you.
A rustle of leaf roused Willow from her thoughts. Rengade materialized before her and exchanged a series of finger twitches. She nodded, nudged Geldane, and rose. Geldane followed suit. “What’s up?” he whispered.
“We’ve got to hurry. Rengade said your escape was discovered and they’re searching in this direction. Can you make it?”
“I’m much better,” he answered, brushing his fingertips against the ba
ck of her hand. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling. Rengade waved them on. They followed, managing to make good time through the forest shadows.
An hour later, they stood at the top of a gentle slope that dropped to the southern shore of the island. A thick stand of conifers bunched to their left. Broken rock and scattered bushes filled most of the space before them. A few hundred meters out to sea, they saw another island looming, its crags thrust high into the night sky. Bright stars blazed overhead adding to the silvery wash of light from the moon. The forest played a melody of chirps, squeals, and throaty calls as the night critters concluded their business and the day critters began to stir.
Rengade signed to Willow, retrieved his knife, and then swept down to the copse.
“Rengade is going to lash together a few logs for you to float on,” she responded to Geldane’s questioning look. “Then we’re going to swim over to that small island.”
“I can make it,” Geldane claimed.
“I’m sure you can but the logs will help. We need to move fast. Come on,” Willow urged.
Rengade had almost completed weaving together several small logs into a narrow platform by the time they arrived. It wasn’t big enough to ride on but it would support Geldane’s upper body and allow Willow and Rengade to help propel them across. Rengade finished tying several ropy vines around the last log, picked it up, and carried it to the pebble-strewn shore. They waded in.
The trip across was quick and uneventful. They had to swing around to the east to find a break in the rocks where they could come ashore. Rengade carried the craft as they picked their way over the detritus littering the base of the cliff that dominated the tiny island.
They were scrambling up through the rocks when Rengade hissed and motioned them down. Willow risked a look behind her at the opposite shore.
The shadow of a man was outlined in moonlight. He seemed to stare directly at her. Willow suppressed the urge to flee. She kept telling herself that he couldn’t possibly see her, it was too dark and that she mustn’t move.
Her breath rasped.
Finally, his head swiveled, as if scanning farther along shore. The man then turned and disappeared into the rocks.
The tenseness drained from Willow’s muscles. Rengade nudged her, indicating that they should continue. She stood and followed.
They were still picking their way across the rocky island when the sun peeked over the distant horizon, backlighting a series of tall, tree-capped crags dotting the seas, giving them fiery auras. Seabirds, nesting in the bluffs, squawked at them as they passed, worrying Willow that they’d give away their presence. There was nothing she could do about it except wish they’d be quiet.
Rengade never paused. He tossed their craft back into the water once they reached the opposite side of the island. They swam over to the next island and, repeating the process, bore steadily northeast. Willow lost track of how many times they did this, stopping only occasionally to satiate their thirst from small gurgles of water tumbling down from the heights.
Hours later, they came to the end of the forest of island outcroppings. They stood atop a smooth plane of weathered limestone on the northern side of their latest island, scanning the horizon. The sun blazed overhead, drying their clothes into stiff, salty crinkles. The only island she could see, a much bigger one, hazy in the distance, looked to be at least a kilometer away, a distance Willow didn’t think she could make. Her legs ached. She felt sodden, wrung out by the humidity and heat. Geldane appeared to be at the end of his endurance, straining to hide the pain in his leg. Rengade stood nearby, deep in thought. He, at least, seemed unfazed, fresh as he was when they began their journey. Geldane glared at him in irritation.
“I think we’re done for the day,” Willow announced. Geldane, letting out a long sigh, dropped into a heap within the shadow between two rounded rocks, wincing from the sting of his wound. Willow shuffled over and untied the bandage. His wound looked irritated but not infected. All that salt water might have been good for it, she concluded, although it must have been painful. She patted Geldane’s knee sympathetically. “Looks good,” she told him. “Does it hurt much?”
“Hardly a twinge,” Geldane joked, his lips halfway between grimace and grin, still playing his role of dauntless hero.
Willow cleaned his wound and redressed it with a fresh application of yarrow. Rengade, saying nothing, melted back into the rocks, intent on whatever mission he’d set himself to. Willow, not much caring about anything at the moment, slumped next to Geldane, too weary even to look for fresh water.
She had no idea what they would do now. They were lost somewhere within the Dolfina Isles, had no food, and no way to flee any farther. The empty ocean stretched before them and the rogues pursued from behind.
They were trapped.
Willow closed her eyes, her exhaustion overcoming her fears.
They slept.
Chapter 13
