Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias
The comfort Machias felt after their prayer, after that wonderful
reminder that they were never truly alone in the world and that Eli
was watching over them, lasted him long enough to see his two
brothers heading south. After Quoddy had taken flight, the puffin had
climbed back up the branches until he could watch the sky. The white
and gray-feathered gull had been easy to follow and his abrupt turn
to the south made Machias's heart skip in excitement. Coming down at
a hearty dive from above was the black-feathered cormorant, his brother Lubec.
Once he'd sighted them both it was easy to track their movement
through the midnight sky. But soon he lost sight of them when they
passed well beyond the line of trees in the south. He perched there
uncomfortably for several long minutes more, recalling the words of
that sweet prayer, the chant rhythm of its phrases and intonation
soothing every sudden stress in his muscles and heart. But after ten
repetitions he knew he could afford to delay no longer.
Frightened though he was, Machias leaped into the sky and beat his
wings, gaining enough loft that he was able to glide safely over the
treetops. He followed the curve of the forest-line around to the
western edge of the city. He'd seen the mill only the one time when
he'd first arrived, and to his relief, it was as far from the castle
as one could go.
This meant that it took him a long time to circle around the city
before in the dim shadows he saw it through the copse of trees that
sprang up on either side of the tributary it plied. The road from the
south cut through the forest a good thirty paces from the mill before
joining the east west road another hundred paces to the north. The
mill was built into a rock foundation that reached down to the
river's edge when swollen with the Spring thaw. The wheel groaned as
it turned rapidly with the rushing water.
Machias perched on a nearby tree and took several deep breaths. There
were no lights on in the mill. The second story was small with
windows on all fours sides, but each of these were closed and
shuttered. The main floor which opened out onto a small dirt track
that led to the main north-south road into Fjellvidden had an
adjoining stables in which the puffin could hear at least four
horses. The water wheel was attached to a winch system that allowed
it to be raised and lowered at need. At the top of the winch he could
see that there was a small open window just large enough for him to
fly through were he at his smallest size.
He concentrated on making himself as much of a normal puffin as he
could, and once he'd finished shrinking in size, Machias jumped into
the air and flew as gracefully as he could toward that open window.
The mill tilted dizzily from side to side as he adjusted his path,
the walls swelling in proportion as he neared. And then he turned up
his wigs and stretched out his feet, bumping them against the sill
and tumbling forward into a a pile of hay strewn across the shelf
just inside the window. A couple of mice working on a stolen bit of
potato nearby scattered into the encompassing darkness.
Machias straightened himself out and waddled across the hayloft
shelf. The entire house was shrouded in gloom; he could make nothing
out apart from the desultory piles of old hay scattered around him
and now poking into his soft feathers. He shook himself from beak to
tail, and then preened those bits of hay free.
His little ears could hear the groaning of the inner wheel beneath
him but nothing more. If the Resistance was gathered here, then
either they must have been arrested already or there was a secret
entrance that even Pharcellus hadn't known about. Without any light
at all, it would be impossible to search the mill. Machias settled
down where he stood and sighed. There was nothing he could do but wait.
The puffin had no sooner started to count his daily prayers when he
heard the sound of footsteps approaching and could see a flicker of
torchlight through gaps in the wooden walls on the town side of the
mill. Machias took a deep breath and then kept completely still, eyes
fixed on those shafts of fiery light.
As the steps grew closer he could tell the man wore boots and that he
walked in the style of a soldier, each pace matched to every other
pace. His stride was quick as well and in only a few seconds he
reached the mill and opened the door. He carried a hooded lantern
with him that shone the floor and space before him but did not reach
to the hayloft above the inner wheel. He was dressed in the blue-gray
livery of Calephas's soldiers and carried a sword at his side to
which his free hand stayed close.
Machias's heart trembled in fear. Had the Resistance been discovered?
Was he going to be discovered too? Would they take him back to Gmork
so that he could be a mindless slave like Lubec desirous only of
being eaten by that monster? The prayers flowed through his mind like
water through a sluice.
The soldier shut the door quickly behind him and then peered through
one of the cracks in the wall, being careful to cover his lantern.
Machias thought this strange behavior. If he had come to expose them,
why did he check to see if he'd been followed? Curious, Machias
inched closer to the edge of the hayloft and peered down at the soldier.
The soldier was a tall man with dour expression under a long mop of
dark, brown hair. He pushed back this hair with his free hand as he
turned away from the door. His eyes fixed on the wheel beneath the
hayloft and he quickly crossed the room, being careful to make as
little noise as possible.
He passed beneath the hayloft and Machias leaned over as far as he
dared to get a better look. A much smaller water wheel turned on the
inside. At one time it must have been connected to a series of
pulleys and winches but now it turned free-standing. The man walked
behind it into a narrow space and then knocked on the wood panel
beneath the screw. Machias blinked in delight when the panel opened
inward to reveal a grizzled man with black beard and swarthy
complexion. He growled, "Gwythyr. About damn time. How'd they know we
were here?"
The soldier shook his head. "I'm not sure. But we may have more
allies than we expected."
The Resistance! Machias felt his heart soar with excitement. He
jumped off the hayloft and allowed his body to swell as he half
glided half fell to the stone floor below. The soldier jumped back
around the water wheel with sword in hand as Machias turned and
spread his wings apart. "I'm a friend! I'm Machias of Metamor!"
The black bearded man crossed his arms. "You were captured by that mage."
Gwythyr the soldier lowered his sword and shook his head. "That
dragon helped them escape; that's what I heard. If he's an ally he
should be an ally still."
Machias squawked as he stepped a little closer. "I know who you
cannot trust. Vysterag! He's one of Gmork's pets. Pharcellus said so!"
"Pharcellus?" the black bearded man asked.
"He's the dragon."
The two men looked at each other briefly and then the soldier pointed
his sword at the ground. "Well, we may as well let him in. If he's a
spy, then our enemy will know where we are already. But I don't think he is."
"He was captured," the black-bearded man insisted.
"And I've been in the castle too," Gwythyr reminded him. "We don't
have time to argue. Come, Machias of Metamor." Gwythyr glared
meaningfully at the man standing in the doorway outlined in light from below.
The black bearded man sighed and started down the stairs. "Just move quickly."
Machias followed the soldier behind the turning water wheel and then
through the door. Gwythyr closed it behind them and latched several
metal bolts. The air from below was stale but had the faint musk of
fish. Machias realized that he hadn't eaten in so very long and his
stomach grumbled at him.
After twelve stone steps, a room opened up on their left fashioned
from stone and with a pylon in the middle to support the ceiling.
There was a closed wooden door on Machias's right, and on either side
of it were small tables. Little earthenware jars sealed tight with
wax stoppers were stacked on the table, while a scrawny man washed
the tables down with oil. Boxes and cots filled out the room to his
left, and on these sat men sharpening axes and swords, and carefully
stringing bows and fletching arrows. In the middle of them with her
hands wringing a set of prayer beads was a very familiar woman.
"Elizabaeg!" Machias squawked in relief. "You're free!"
She lifted her bloodshot eyes and the worried crease of her cheeks
softened. "Machias. You escaped. Where's my boys?"
Machais stumbled into the room as the dozen men all turned to look at
him and Gwythyr. "That evil monster has Lindsey still! Pharcellus
rescued Quoddy and me, but... that monster is controlling my brother
Lubec! Oh it was horrible! He was going to control us too and make us
beg to be eaten by him! And he did eat Strom! Murdered him. Oh, it
was horrible! But Lindsey wouldn't tell them anything No, nothing at all!"
"Slow down," Elizabaeg begged him as she fought to keep her hands
from trembling. "Where are Quoddy and Pharcellus?"
"Who are Quoddy and Pharcellus?" one of the other members of the
Resistance asked, a short blond-haired fellow sitting in the far back
and twirling a knife in his hands.
"Quoddy is heading south to lure Lubec away. Pharcellus is heading
east to lure that monster and his pups away."
"That's been tried before," the blond haired man said as he caught
the knife between two fingers. "That mage is no fool. He'll be back
to the castle soon enough."
Elizabaeg got up, cast withering glance at the blond haired fellow,
and then stepped next to Machias and put a hand on his shoulder just
above the wing. "Machias, I know you are frightened. We all are. When
I saw the soldiers converging on Strom's paddocks... I knew something
terrible had happened. Tell us, as slowly as you can what happened."
She glanced at Gwythyr and smiled faintly. "I'm glad you could come.
Whatever you have to say can wait until this one is done."
"He's a Metamorian," the blond-haired man said as he stood up and
sheathed his knife. "They haven't done anything but make things
worse. This is our home."
"They are friends of my son, Lhindesaeg," Elizabaeg snapped. "They
are with me, Jarl. You will listen to him."
"No," Jarl replied disdainfully, "I'm going to go watch for our
enemies." He shoved past them both and climbed the stairs two at a
time. Four of the other men shook their heads but the rest ignored
the young man's behavior. When they heard the door close behind him,
Elizabaeg finally sighed.
"Don't mind him," she assured Machias in a kindly voice. "Now tell us
what happened."
Machias was not a very good storyteller and had difficulty slowing
his recitation down past mad dash. Even thinking about what happened
made him squawk in dismay and his heart tremble. Twelve pairs of
human eyes were fixed upon him and that made him even more nervous.
It was one thing to deal with a few humans at one time, especially
when they thought him nothing more than an animal. But it had been a
very long time he had been in the midst of so many humans. The only
crowds he ever usually experienced were the birds and reptiles at the
Fellowship meetings, but he was one of them so he felt safe there.
Not so here. He blabbered and cawed his answers, beak swinging back
and forth and wings pressing as tightly against his back as they
could go. Elizabaeg with steely eyes silenced the men of the
Resistance, but they turned gentle and reassuring when they rested on
the flustered puffin. Her questions were short and helped him think
clearly. If not for her, Machias knew he would have broken down into
tears just speaking about his brother Lubec.
And also thanks to her, they were finished before he quite realized it.
"Luvig, bring Machias something to eat and drink. He is famished."
The scrawny man cleaning the tables nodded and poured him a small cup
of something strong and hot, as well as provided a little bit of
cooked fish that he gobbled in a single bite.
"If Vysterag is one of the mage's spies, how long will it be before
they find us here?" The black-bearded man asked.
"He didn't know about the mill," a red-bearded man with thick upper
arms replied. "He only knew Strom, Elizabaeg and I." His face
suddenly grew ashed white. "Oh, Eli. My apprentices! They're going to
the tannery and they won't... they won't..."
"It's too late, Ture" Elizabaeg said softly. "There's nothing you can
do. They don't know where we are."
"But that mage will kill them!"
"He will kill all of us if we don't end this." She took a deep
breath. "We cannot expect any help from the rivermen if Lubec was a
spy. What of the tundra? Machias, where are the men of the tundra?"
"They should arrive tomorrow... later today."
"And you said there would be a dozen of them?"
"Aye, that's what I was told."
"Twenty-five of us against all of the monster and the mage's forces.
We won't have a chance," Ture slammed his hand into his fists. "And I
believed you, Elizabaeg. I believed you when you said this time we'd succeed."
"We may yet," Gwythyr said softly. "I'm not sure we can trust him,
but I don't think we have a choice."
"What are you talking about?" Ture snapped.
"The gaoler, Yajgaj, a Lutin, told me to tell you that he's switching
all of the guards at the eastern gate with his own tribe. He says
that if we come today, he will make sure we have a clear shot at the
armory, the baileys, and both our enemies. If he is telling the
truth, we can seize the castle in less than an hour and have both of
them dead. He's giving us a window of a day, after that he cannot risk it."
"And have you lost all your sense. A Lutin?" Ture and several of the
men looked ready to start swinging their axes. "They're as much our enemy too!"
"He knew I was part of the Resistance," Gwythyr said, holding up one
hand and backing a step away. "He even knew how I was getting out of
the castle to come meet you. But he hasn't said anything. He hasn't
said anything. If he did, we'd have all been dead or the mage's pets
long ago. I've seen the mage do that to people. I've seen it! If this
Lutin hasn't turned us in, then, couldn't he possibly be really
trying to help us?"
"Maybe he hates Calephas too," Machias suggested as he slurped down
another fish. The fish and the brew were making him very warm and
alert. He felt almost relaxed in fact. "I know a lot of the Lutins
have turned against Nasoj after their last failed attack on Metamor."
Elizabaeg rubbed her clean cheeks and nodded. "It is possible. If
he's lying and we go, then we'll all be in a trap from which there
will be no escape. And if he is telling the truth and we don't go,
then we will have missed our best chance to end those two and take
our home back. Because if we truly could get into the castle, even
with only two dozen... that would be enough."
"His armies are still much, much bigger."
"And how many of them will fight for him once he's dead?"
Ture grimaced and sat back down. The scrawny man Luvig rolled one of
the little pouches back and forth in his hands. "But if he is lying,
we'll never be free from him."
"I've already lost one son to him," Elizabaeg said with bitter anger
in her voice. "If I do not go, I will certainly lose the other. I am
not going to take that chance." She turned to Gwythyr and nodded her
head. "I will go. And if any of you here still have some loyalty to
Alfwig, you will go too."
"Alfwig was a good man," Ture admitted with a long sigh. He hefted
his axe over his shoulder and nodded. "And this is the only way my
apprentices have any hope of not being that beast's next meal. I'll go."
The others were quick to agree after that. These were desperate men
and they had been driven to the end of their patience and their hope.
Machias was amazed and relieved that they would accept even the most
slenderest and fragile of hopes offered by a Lutin. Once all had
offered their assent, all of them crept closer to Elizabaeg and
Gwythyr who stood in the center of the room.
Lindsey's mother smiled faintly but with warmth at each of them.
"This may be our last day. If it is, we will not go quietly. They
will know that they have not crushed the men of Arabarb. Or their
women." At this a few of the men laughed heartily. Her smile widened.
"Now, we are not going to go into this blindly. Luvig, are your jars
ready? Will they work?"
The scrawny man hefted one of the two dozen earthenware jars and
shrugged his shoulders. "They're ready. They shouldn't smell anything
until it's too late. I do not know if it will work. The ingredients
the Whalish sailor told us were sketchy at best."
"What is it?" Gwythyr asked as his eyes swept over the pile of
pouches. Each was small enough to be hidden in a human palm. They
appeared as nothing more than a small jar for flour or oil.
Luvig smiled, revealing a few missing teeth. "A surprise for the
pups. Whatever you do, don't light them on fire or get them wet."
Gwythyr swallowed uncertainly as he nodded.
"Thank you, Luvig. I know you spent the last two days working very
hard on them."
"And the last two years gathering the ingredients," he added with a
frown. "I just hope it works."
Several of the other men grunted their agreement. Elizabaeg turned
back to Gwythyr and said, "You will need to return to the castle.
Now. If you wait any longer, the pups might find you. You can help us
best from the inside."
"Of course. Yahshua be with you."
"And also with you."
Gwythyr smiled awkwardly to the puffin as he walked passed. He patted
him on the shoulder with the queerest expression on his face that
Machias had ever seen, and then raced back up the staircase and out
into the mill proper.
"Now, we have to assume that the pups will find us here. That means
we need to make preparations for their arrival. But first, Machias, I
am sorry to have to ask you this, but do you know where the tundra
men will be?"
The puffin cawed in surprise at being addressed, but began to nod his
head before shaking it. "I know the route they're taking, but not
where they'll be."
Elizabaeg pursed her lips but the faint smile returned. "Good enough.
I want you to fly to them now. Tell them to move as quickly as they
can south around Fjellvidden to the eastern gate. We'll meet in the
woods along the way. We need them to move quickly if we are to attack today."
Machias fluttered his tail feathers back and forth and bobbed his
head up and down. "Could I have just a little bit more to drink
before I go?" Elizabaeg smiled and several of the men laughed.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
!DSPAM:4dc1155a93931804284693!
_______________________________________________
MKGuild mailing list
[email protected]
http://lists.integral.org/listinfo/mkguild
