Stories from a clever mercenary in a wild world.
The holidays are upon us–with glitter, bows, lights and music. Having no wish to compete with the season, and desiring to get a good grip on the next section of the story, Zare will take a short break for the month of December.
I may continue to post art, but the story will be going on hold until January 4th.
Don’t despair–and don’t wander too far away!
*
“I am very sorry for the loss of your city,” said Quill through gritted teeth, bringing me back to the present as I peeled the last layer bandage away from his leg. The wound was still an angry red hole, but I thought it looked a bit better. The riding had been significantly kinder to it than the walking.
Vaudrin returned with a waxed canvas bucket filled with water and I set to gently washing the calf.
“Do you need anything else, milady?” Vaudrin asked.
“No, thank you, you may sit.”
Vaudrin hesitated, then sank to his bedroll next to Quill’s.
“If I may ask, Quill, how old are you?” I dabbed the ragged flesh carefully.
“Torturer,” hissed Quill. “Probe my wounds and ask questions, but I will not relent.”
I wrinkled my nose, unsure of the laugh that was trying to strangle out. “You had better relent, else I’ll rinse your wounds with vinegar.”
Quill wriggled uncomfortably but said nothing.
I moved on to smearing salve and changed tactic, “How did someone as young as you become captain?”
“The royal guard was gutted the day Dalyn fell. There were fewer ranks to climb.”
Vaudrin cut in, “He is being modest, your highness.” I glanced at the blond man, who continued, “We all joined the guard well before any boy should be allowed—but the captain has always excelled, they delayed his promotion until he was at least knocking on twenty’s door.”
I finished re-bandaging his leg and moved up to his shoulder.
Quill gave me a pained look when I started plucking the bandage back. I rolled my eyes at him. “And you’re the one who needs rescuing on your first big mission?” I asked as I finished peeling off the bandages and began inspecting the slash. This one was well on its way to healing.
“It’s hardly our first big mission,” replied Quill.
“Where do you think he excelled, your highness?” Vaudrin smiled.
Pursing my lips, I focused on cleaning the sword wound. “You can’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old when Dalyn fell!”
“I was fourteen.”
I paused, my fingers poised at his shoulder. Younger than even I was when Galhara fell. Suddenly his story became vivid—like adding salt to stew. I had been sixteen—but born with my rank and taught to fight as a matter of royal schooling. Royal schooling that became entirely practical far before expected or complete. Quill had been even younger when he was pushed into war, and I wondered if he had possessed any of my advantages. I stared at him, “Did you…join right away?” I was afraid to ask the real question: Did his family die, too?
He was looking at the ground, “I did.”
“I’m sorry,” I managed.
Quill met my eyes for a raw moment—and then inclined his head. “What’s lost is lost.”
Our conversation was interrupted by a shattering crack that brought the entire glen to its feet. There was a moment’s confusion as hastily armed men scattered like chaff to cover the area. I started to get up but Quill laid a firm hand on my arm. “Stay, your highness.”
For a split second I was surprised, then I remembered. My brothers were likewise guarded by members of the unit who stood over them like she-bears over cubs. An entire company of Remkos.
A moment later the soldiers returned. Vaudrin came to report, he paused between Quill and Namal uncertainly, then directed his findings at both of them, “We are safe. The draft horse broke the tree branch to which he was tethered. Ripped it right off the tree.”
I shifted as I felt my brothers’ eyes resting on me. Apparently Sinker’s flaw was tying. “Not to worry,” I assured the company quickly—though Quill’s men didn’t know I was responsible for the dysfunctional horses, “he won’t leave—his mind cannot cope with being tied.”
I caught Ayglos hiding a smirk behind his hand.
The soldiers returned to their beds like a flock of sparrows descending on a tree for the night. I turned my attention back to smearing salve on Quill’s shoulder.
Shortly, Ayglos and Namal came to join us; Vaudrin stood and offered them his bedroll to sit on. Once they were settled, Namal said, “Captain, we need to move quickly. I propose that we send some of the men back to Gillenwater to find out what was done with the circus women and our family. If they have sent a raven to Hirhel we have three days, perhaps less, to rescue our people.”
“Agreed, your highness,” said Quill. “Our orders were to return to Dalyn once we accomplished our mission. We will tarry here to aid you, and then will make with all speed back to Dalyn. I hope that you will still make that journey with us.
“I would send Jemin, and with your leave, your sister in disguise. A man and a woman together would be less suspicious. They can take the donkey and behave as travelers.”
Namal considered this. I could see that neither of my brothers were pleased with the idea, but there were clear advantages. With Narya’s men hunting for the rebel soldiers who burned the forges, my chiseled swimmer brothers would surely draw unwelcome attention. Jemin, who had greeted us first when we arrived, was a strapping, bearded man, who could easily be taken for a laborer—a mason or blacksmith perhaps. Add to this that no one brings a woman on a raiding party…
“Zare?” Namal turned to me. “Would you be up for the task?”
“Of course,” I didn’t hesitate.
Namal nodded and bowed his head for a moment. He looked at Ayglos, and then agreed at last. “Very well, Jemin and Zare will go into Gillenwater in the morning.”
*
*
We all looked at Quill in surprise. He’d said nothing at all about being the captain of his unit. How was he possibly old enough to be a captain?
“I am alive, indeed, Jemin,” replied Quill, approaching the newcomer and clasping his hand in greeting. “Report.”
“Five have wounds of one sort or another—but no one has or is likely to die from them,” replied the man. He was barrel chested, bearded, and looked older than Quill by a couple years—but at this point I wasn’t sure I was good at guessing men’s ages. Jemin continued, “When you did not come yesterday we feared the worst.”
Quill grimaced and gestured to his leg. “Caught a quarrel from one of those crossbows.” He glanced back at us, “And then took a detour. Bring us to the camp, we need rest and food and to make a new plan.”
Jemin turned and led us further down the gully until it opened out a bit and got shallow again. I could smell the stream long before we saw the quiet little pool and lazy water by which the soldiers of Dalyn had made their campsite. It was a nice spot.
The men were all standing by the time we arrived and a chorus of pleased murmurs celebrated Quill’s safe return. I got the particular feeling that the presence of five strangers significantly stymied their rejoicing. Quill hobbled to the center of the little camp. “Gentlemen,” he announced, stopping and turning to face us. “I present to you the royal princes and princess of Galhara.”
The surprised looks and soft intake of breath were gratifying. Even more gratifying was the way they snapped to attention. Royal again. My chest swelled.
Gabe and Balleck shifted uncomfortably; but Namal, the rightful crown prince of Galhara, stepped forward. “At ease,” his voice filled the little glen. “We have come for your aid.” He summed up the little raid which had shattered our new life and ended with a suitably humble request for their help rescuing our family.
Namal had directed his plea to the group at large, and I was surprised when it was Quill who answered.
“We are sworn to the protection of Dalyn. You were our allies before all was lost, and we would honor that alliance. You are welcome in our company and protection, and we will do what we can to help you regain your own.”
Captain. Of course.
Quill gestured to a big man who had a shock of curly blond hair, “Your highnesses, this is Vaudrin, my second in command.”
Vaudrin bowed. My brothers bowed in return, and I dipped in a tiny curtsy. Vaudrin was leaner built than the barrelish Jemin, and he was taller. He, like the rest standing around the glen, was on the young side of a soldier’s prime. Quill addressed Vaudrin, “Do we have any food we can share with our guests?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Vaudrin. With a gesture, he passed the order on and the glen came alive with activity. Quill’s soldiers moved like ghosts and barely spoke. Some of the men tended my prizes, others unfurled our bedrolls and began to set out food on a blanket. They built no fire—naturally—but they had a supply of olives, dates, and bread. Our own provisions were actually better, and I made sure our cheeses and slightly fresher breads made it out to the humble table.
Once all the food was set out Quill motioned for my brothers and me to take what we would first, then the rest of the men did likewise. We all carried our bread and cheese to our bedrolls. No one spoke, and the quiet sound of eating reminded me of sitting in a field with grazing animals. I didn’t know who could possibly be around to hear the soldiers in this secluded place, but they certainly weren’t taking any chances.
The long golden shadows of evening dappled the glen and danced on the face of the stream. I wanted to go touch the water and feel the comfort of its music. I didn’t. Instead I picked up Boitumelo’s satchel and went over to where Quill was sitting in close conference with Vaudrin. His leg stuck out in front of him like the beak on a heron.
Quill looked up as I approached. “Your highness.”
Vaudrin moved as if to stand but I stopped him with a lift of my hand. My, royalty was nice.
I dipped my chin toward the satchel. “Let me see to your leg, Captain.”
Quill grimaced. “It will spoil my supper.”
“I waited till you were finished—and it will spoil your life if I don’t,” I retorted.
My mysterious archer dropped his head. “Very well.” He shifted to his side to expose his wounded calf.
I knelt on the ground by his leg and began unwinding the bandage. “Vaudrin, if you wouldn’t mind sending for water from the stream?” I asked, flicking my eyes to the blond henchman.
Vaudrin nodded, “Of course, your highness.” He jumped up and moved off as softly as a breath of wind on a summer day.
“We have never had royalty among us on a mission before,” said Quill, looking away from his leg while I worked. “They don’t know which courtly manners to keep here in the wilds and which are only for civilization.”
“Then they are in good company, since we have not used courtly manners since our city burned and are not accustomed to behaving our rank.” It was only a slight exaggeration. After we fled Galhara we spent a month in the halls of my grandfather, under Daisen Bay. There, we were welcome and as royal as we had been born. My grandfather’s castle had air just like the world above, but those without nymph blood could hardly be expected to live happily under water. My mother, myself, and my siblings were the only Galhirim comfortable in my grandfather’s kingdom. So my father brought us ashore in search of a new life, and perhaps an escape. We found the circus.
*
*
They hadn’t waited for us. We came around a bend and saw our four companions walking toward us. Namal was in the lead, Gabe hovered near the limping Quill, and Balleck brought up the rear. Ayglos and I urged our horses faster to quickly close the awkward gap between being sighted and giving explanations.
Everyone stopped when we pulled up. Namal put his hands on his hips. “What have you done?” he asked, gesturing to the horses.
“I didn’t steal anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I jumped off Hook. “I won a wager at a horse farm.”
Ayglos weighed in, “It’s true, and I don’t think he’s the type to be sore about it.”
“Does that mean your prizes are dysfunctional?” said Namal, eyeing them suspiciously.
“Not anymore,” I said.
“Quite possibly,” said Ayglos.
I glared at him—albeit halfheartedly. He shrugged. Turning back to Namal, I explained, “We needed horses. Quill can’t walk like we have been. I brought Ayglos.” I lifted my chin defiantly. Ayglos: The ultimate seal of legitimacy.
Namal eyed me, and then sighed. “What’s done is done, I guess. I’ll spare you the reminders about everything that could have—and still could—go wrong.” He gestured to the others, “Load them up, then.”
I caught Balleck’s eye and he winked, a proud smile twisting the corners of his mouth. I smiled, too. Leading Hook forward, I might have brushed closer to him than necessary on my way over to Quill. My brothers and Balleck set to loading our packs onto Line and Sinker.
“I assume you can ride?” I stopped next to Quill and Gabe.
Even pale and weary, Quill managed to give me a withering look. “Of course.”
“No one has ridden Hook but me,” I added, “So be gentle.”
Quill arched a brow, “You brought a wild horse to carry your cripple? I feel so cared for.”
“You should, it wasn’t easy.”
Hook snorted.
I patted his neck. “Come say hello, you can’t just get on without formalities.”
Quill grunted, but hobbled a step closer, offering the back of his hand to the black horse. Hook sniffed it and looked away. Quill patted Hook’s neck and the black allowed it. Gabe came next and performed the same ritual, then turned to the task of getting Quill onto the black.
I held Hook and explained what was happening to him while the strongman and the archer tried to find a way to get the archer astride without just heaving him on like a sack of oranges. Though, that is, essentially, what ended up happening. Once everything was situated we set off again down the road. I walked by Hook’s head, just in case he decided to have a nervous breakdown about carrying a rider, and Balleck fell in step beside me.
We were now some of the wealthiest pilgrims in the region, no doubt, thanks to my success. However, we were sufficiently bedraggled that the other travelers we encountered largely ignored us. Nothing of interest happened this part of the journey as there was nothing to do but walk. Every now and then Namal would lead us in a hymn—a nice touch to our cover and oddly encouraging at the same time.
We passed the road which would have led us to Gillenwater and kept on. We took a brief rest for lunch of bread and cheese then continued on our way. In the late afternoon Quill announced, “Let’s stop and rest for a while.”
Only by ‘stop and rest’ he meant dive off the side of the road into the forest and wend our way deeper over rough terrain—where Line the donkey was by far the steadiest on his feet—until we came to a cozy little gully. Quill slid off Hook and hobbled forward, his head thrown back like he was looking for something in the trees.
Then a burly man stepped out of the shadows. “Captain! You’re alive!”
*
The Legend of Zare Caspian 