by Tim Paulson
“A little uneasy are we?” Celia said with a laugh.
Liam shot Giselle's knife wielding lady in waiting an unpleasant stare.
“Celia, why don't you and Liam stand away a bit. Aaron and I will take a quick look at the trees,” Giselle said, handing the two little hands that had been gripping her fingers since the moment they awakened over to Celia and her brother.
“Ugh, why?” Liam said, sneering at the children.
Celia nodded knowingly.
“But miss Giselle!” said Meera.
“She'll be fine,” Celia assured the child, giving Giselle a wink.
Giselle waited as the rest of them retreated back to the overgrown cart path where, looking like he was trying to turn into a bush, Pioter stood. The weaselman hadn't been willing to even approach the pines.
“Come on, let's take a closer look,” she said as she took her husband's hand.
“Hmmm? Sure,” he said, his other hand shielding his eyes from the glare of the morning sun. They stepped forward into the line of trees, heading for one of the larger ones just inside the wood. The scent changed as you passed under the trees. The clear clean breeze of the Eastern hill side was replaced by a stale stagnant odor even though the trees looked quite sturdy and healthy. The only sound was the pine needles crunching under their feet as they walked.
“I've missed you,” she said.
Aaron looked surprised for a moment. Then he smiled. “And I you.” He let go of her hand and put an arm around her waist.
She stopped him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulled him close to her.
“I miss our time together,” she said, putting her head against his shoulder. He was her home, never had she felt it more.
“Don't breathe too deeply,” he said. “That was a long hike yesterday. I'm not exactly at my best.”
“Neither am I,” she said. He didn't really smell that bad, not when compared to the weaselman. That creature smelled like a wet dog on his best day and had steadily become more pungent with every step.
“I would not say so,” he said.
“What the devil are you two doing over there!” Liam shouted at them from across the road. “Can we save kissing time for later? I'd like to get to the uncle Wilhelm's palace before I die of old age!”
Celia cuffed him on the shoulder.
Aaron squeezed her once more before sighing and turning around to get one last look at the tree before them.
She joined him, casting her eyes up. It truly was gigantic. The auburn bark seemed to flake away with age, leaving shed scales piled against the trunk.
Without really thinking Giselle reached forward and slid a hand under the bottom of Aaron's technician tunic. She just wanted to feel his skin, perhaps slide her hand up his chest. Just one little touch.
Aaron wasn't ready for this however. He yelped and tripped over a tree root, barreling head first into the closest pine.
“Minsha Ton ta Ja!?” said a booming voice from directly above. The tree was moving. The tree was alive! It had arms and legs and a huge face with a very unhappy expression. How had she not noticed that before?
Giselle had no idea what to do. A moving tree, though a common element in some of the older stories, was entirely out of her realm of experience. She froze, mouth open, staring at it.
Aaron gripped her hand, “Time to go!”
She tried to comply, to help, to follow, but her legs didn't want to obey. They felt like lead weights, like stumps.
“Ja kol! Fownsyl byn yaneksh!” said the tree as a hand shaped branch swung at them. Unable to pull her with him Aaron instead put both hands on her chest and thrust her backwards. The whole world spun around her and Giselle landed heavily on a bed of sharp pine needles that jabbed through her clothes, especially her backside which took the brunt of the fall.
There was yelling, a scream.
Hands pulled at her arms, dragging her out of the trees. When she finally managed to regain her senses Giselle wished she hadn't. They had all escaped except for one.
Aaron was gone.
Chapter 12
"The meek, the poor and the persecuted are assured their place in paradise but the rich should pay."
-Her eminence Pope Felicia II, in a statement defending the selling of indulgences, 1618
Henri awakened to ice cold water being poured over his face. Coughing and chortling he gasped for breath. It had only been a dream. The same one as always.
Mia stood over him, her dark hair hanging like a pair of black satin curtains, shading her eyes. Next to her was Adem, an excited look on his face.
“Daddy!” the boy cried, hugging him tightly about the neck.
“Quietly Adem,” Mia said. “We don't want any more scary visitors.”
The little boy nodded and leaned forward to whisper to his father. “Doll guy fixed you!” Then, leaning even closer he added, “he used shorsherry.”
“Oh he did?” Henri said, squinting. The sun was high, shining through the top of the pines that surrounded them. He vaguely remembered the small stand of pines. “How long was I out?”
“Only a few hours. It's near midday,” Mia said. “How do you feel?” Genuine concern appeared to be seeping through her stern expression.
“Like shit,” he said, testing the fingers of his right hand. They moved normally, though his arm was still caked in a dried mix of mud and his own blood. He tried to brush it off but it was glued to his arm hair, he grimaced.
“He drew more lines in the air daddy! So many pretty colors!” Adem said, again approaching shouting until Mia shot him a look. “Sorry,” he said.
Henri sat up and gave his little golden haired boy a big hug. “How are you feeling?”
Adem's eyes drifted down and he made an unhappy face. One of his hands went to his stomach. Then he seemed to pause in thought before looking up. “Good daddy.”
Henri smiled at the boy, ruffling his hair. Adem was a poor liar. He considered this a good thing. “I know you don't want to be poked again. I don't want that either.”
“Then let's not do it,” said Adem, emphatically slapping a tiny fist into his palm.
“Where's the obnoxious doll?” asked Henri.
“Har har,” came the reply. The doll was trundling in underneath a pine bough. “Good to see you're awake and not rendered any more of an idiot than you already are blacksmith,” it said. “And please now that you owe me your life once again, would you consider perhaps calling me by my name?”
“Which is what?”
The doll looked exasperated. “I told you this,” it sighed. “Master Harald, of course.”
“Fine,” Henri said. Anything to get him to shut up.
“Good good,” Harald said, nodding, his golden curls bouncing. “I have good news for you.”
“What's that?” Henri asked, trying not to be concerned.
“Adem?”
“Yes?” said the little boy, face brightening.
“Take a look at this,” Harald said, extending a yarn hand. In the palm was a single polished river stone, circular and flat. In its center was inscribed a faintly glowing symbol of bluish green.
“Oooh!” cooed Adem, his chubby fingers grabbing for the object.
“What's that?” Henri said, lifting an eyebrow.
As soon as Adem's fingers touched the stone his eyelids slammed shut. The boy's whole body went limp, collapsing on his father's lap.
Henri jumped up. “What did you do to him?!” He reached for the doll's scrawny throat with both hands.
“Stop! Don't touch that stone!” Harald said.
“What just happened?” Mia said, eyes wide.
“I'm trying to help!” Harald ducked under the closest of the two calloused blacksmith hands and dove to the ground getting completely covered in pine needles.
“He'd better not be hurt!” Henri said.
“He's fine!” Harald said as he sat up and plucked the long needles from various parts of his woven anatomy. “He's asleep. We
can drain him now and he won't even know.”
Henri eyed the flat river stone with the glowing marking. It had fallen to the ground where it sat ominously on a bed of brown pine needles. There was no steam or noise from the stone, no movement or vibration that betrayed its power.
The thought of the kind of malevolence that could be facilitated by such a thing made Henri shudder. No doubt those who thought nothing of enslaving minds like that old woman were behind something like this. No wonder witches were so loathed by the church, to turn a simple stone into something so powerful.
It was worrying.
“Will it put me to sleep if I hold it with cloth?”
“It must be touched with skin to function,” Harald said.
Henri wrapped the stone in one of his kerchiefs. He hated to admit it, but it would be extremely useful. Now Adem could be put to sleep and drained of his demon poison at will. He wouldn't even know. It would still traumatic to have to pierce his poor boy, but the trauma would be lessened, especially for Adem, which is what mattered.
They did drain Adem then, at which point Mia told him his sword had been left behind. Adem's veil energy would fill up only Mia's weapons and Harald. As much as he might want to they couldn't go back to the field, it would be too dangerous, so they continued on. Henri shouldered what remained of their supplies and carried Adem, while Harald rode Mia's shoulder pointing the way.
From time to time they would hear trees cracking in the distance betraying the possible presence of a goliath, but it never seemed very close. Either they'd truly lost it or Harald had done something to send it in the wrong direction. Henri told himself it didn't matter so long as they were safe.
Around a half hour later Adem woke up seemingly no worse for wear and in a pretty good mood. Henri let him walk for a while, munching a hunk of leftover cake as they went.
After a couple of hours walking through the brush they came to a road. Thin and rarely used, it was little more than a cart path. At Harald's insistence they followed it West until they came to the town of Keln.
Henri was familiar with this place. It was a minor crossroads village that consisted entirely of an Inn, a church and a farrier with stables attached, though the church appeared to be missing. Keln marked the intersection of the West empire road, which they'd been traveling and Faustland's western pike, a road built of fresh cobblestones that came in diagonally from their left and ran off toward the Aeyrd mountains to their right.
Henri had been here before. He'd traveled the pike more than a year ago with a four year old Adem. They'd even stayed at the Inn for a night so he could ask about the area. He remembered the inn keeper as a talkative man with black eyebrows so closely set they made one black line across his forehead and a thick Arden accent. The food had been abominable but the ale exceptionally good.
At the moment the most concerning thing wasn't the prospect of eating that food again but the cadre of red cloaked imperial light cavalrymen who had taken possession of the town. Several pairs of soldiers were milling about outside. However Henri thought it likely many more were at the tavern, probably having some of that tasty ale.
After tromping through the woods and down the road all afternoon with nothing but cake in his stomach, Henri found he was actually quite hungry. Even if the food was terrible it would be better than nothing and the ale... well, no chance he wouldn't have some of that.
“Daddy? Can we eat there?” Adem said, pointing ahead.
“We can't,” Mia said.
“Why?” Adem said, one of his favorite things to say.
“Yeah, why?” Henri said.
“I'm wearing the uniform of House Halett. Those soldiers are my sworn enemy,” she said, looking annoyed.
“So what? You're saying can't take them all?” Henri said with the hint of a smile.
“From the number of horses tied up by that Inn, that has to be at least thirty soldiers,” she said.
“So go get em!” Henri said, grinning.
“Yeah! Get em!” Adem said, pointing one of his stubby fingers in the direction of the Inn. “I'm hungry!”
Mia rolled her eyes, sighing. “Look, I can't-”
“Hush,” Harald said from her shoulder. “Pick me up, hold me high above your head.”
Mia did as requested, extending her arms all the way up, the doll's feet held firmly in each of her hands.
“Where is it?” Harald said, cupping a yarn hand to his eyes in a vain attempt to shield the sun.
“Where is what?” Henri asked.
“The Falaxilum. It's supposed to be right there. Where the roads meet,” Harald said pointing ahead at the Inn.
“The what?” Henri said.
“It's a, a... group of large stones with writing on them. Is that comprehensible to your minuscule mind muscle meat man?” Harald said.
“I don't see any big stones,” Mia said, bringing Harald back down.
“I can see that! That's why I asked where it had gone!”
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Henri said.
He would be incensed if it turned out to be a mistake on the part of the supposed genius sorcerer. They'd have walked a day and a half in the wrong direction, right into the teeth of a very hungry enemy army.
Though something needled his mind about the stones. He'd seen stones with writing like Harald described, but it was a while back and in a different place.
Henri's stomach growled.
Adem leaned in and hugged his father's hip, patting his stomach with one chubby little hand. “It's alright daddy's belly. I'm hungry too.”
Mia chuckled at Adem's gesture, smiling. When she saw he was looking at her, she turned away.
“I hate to say this... but I don't know what to do. The stones are supposed to be here,” Harald said.
Henri nodded. That was encouraging. Any man who could admit when he didn't know something was a good man in his mind. Perhaps he'd been too hard on the sorcerer.
“Then we'll just have to go inside and ask,” Henri said.
“And eat!” added Adem.
“We can't do that remember? I'm their enemy,” Mia said.
“Harald, isn't there anything you can do?” Henri said.
“Well I can't change her clothes unless she wants something to wear from my time-”
“No!” Mia said.
Harald made a face. “Pity, I'd love to see her in... several things. Oh well.” He paused, thinking. “You have to bear in mind I'm not entirely free to do anything I wish... Hmmm... I have an idea. Mia, I need another stone.”
Odd. This was the first time Henri had heard Harald describe himself as anything but gloriously powerful and intelligent. He wasn't free either? Were all these witches enslaved to one another?
“Whatever you do, make it quick. We've been standing in the road for some time within sight of the crossroads. Their sentries will notice soon if they haven't already and come here,” Mia said as she bent down to pick a rock from the edge of the road.
“This won't take long,” Harald said as he accepted the stone, a vaguely triangular lump of dirty orange sandstone and began waving his hands over it. The symbol that appeared was once again cyan, like a limpid tide pool.
“Good because here they come,” Henri said.
Indeed the two nearest red cloaked soldiers had already begun approaching on foot.
Mia shrugged. “If I have to kill them we won't be able to eat here.”
“I know that!” Harald said. “There. Put this in a pouch or a pocket. Somewhere on your person,” he suggested, handing the stone down to Mia. She took it, eyeing it for a moment in her fingers before placing it in a pouch on her belt.
Nothing seemed to change to Henri's eyes.
“I think maybe it's broken?” Henri said.
“It's fine,” Harald said. “Just don't speak to anyone girl and try to be unobtrusive. You'll be ignored automatically, like you're just another nobody.”
“I see,” Mia said. She looked doubtful.
“Ho there!” one of the two soldiers said as they approached. Though both men had a similar height and build the one who spoke had several shocks of gray peeking out from his cavalryman's tall feathered helmet and crows feet streaking from the corners of his eyes.
“Hello!” Henri said as he took a moment to find and squeeze Adem's tiny hand. A little reassurance didn't hurt, for either of them. “We're refugees from East of here. The town was overrun with horrors so we fled. This is my son and my wife and-” he paused remembering he didn't have to introduce Harald because he was just a doll. Indeed, quick thinking Mia had already handed Harald to Adem who dutifully clutched the doll to his chest.
Henri watched as the two men's eyes roamed over him and Adem but seemed to bypass Mia. It felt particularly odd given that her olive skin and dark eyes were striking to look at and these were soldiers.
“And what?” said the older man, his cloak billowing in the cool wind.
“Aaaand... I'm a blacksmith, though I've lost my tools,” Henri said.
“Ah! Well you're in luck blacksmith. I've orders to send everyone away while our armies pacify these lands. That ought to include you. However... We've had some trouble here and perhaps you can help us,” he said.
“As I said, my tools were left behind...”
“Tools we have, it's the farrier that's the problem. He's old and his hands shake and last night he got so drunk he wandered out to the crossroads stark naked and pissed on the sign post!”
“Ah,” Henri said. “Well I've done my fair share of shoeing that's for sure. I can help you.”
“Excellent!” said the gray haired man with a genuine smile. “There are no rooms at the Inn I'm afraid but I know there's one at the old farrier's place. We'll put your family up there. In the meantime though, do stop by the tavern at the inn. I'll see that you get some food. I can't promise about the ale though, the men love it, perhaps too much.”
“Shouldn't I speak to your knight commander first?”
“You already have,” the man said as he clapped a hand on Henri's back. “My name's Hiram Bartold, knight commander of the tenth light imperial cavalry, at your service.” He extended a hand.
