Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias
Machias was very grateful that he'd had a little something to eat
before he'd left the mill. After an hour of flying north, following
the forest tracks the tundra men had told him about, he felt sore but
not exhausted as he feared he would. Without so little light he had
trouble distinguishing the tracks and roads through the woods, but
his eyes did adjust just enough so that along with his memory, he was
able to follow the paths from above without having to circle
constantly to find them again and again.
The cloud cover began to break up after he'd been flying for nearly
two hours. Dawn would come soon, but still he had not seen a hint of
the men from the north. They had assured him they would reach
Fjellvidden that day with ease, but the puffin knew it would take
them twice as long to hike those paths as it did for him to fly over
them. He started to despair of them reaching the city in time to help
Elizabaeg.
Then, through a tight bend in the road, shielding on all sides by a
cavalcade of stone that jutted through the clustering trees like a
drowning man's hand breaching the water one last time, he saw a dozen
dogs milling about with a pair of thickly clad men watching them. His
wings cramped even as he turned to swoop down and land amongst them.
He cawed and flailed his wings as best he could as he banked
haphazardly over the treeline and into view of the shelter. The dozen
snow dogs and two men all looked up. In the light of the single torch
the one man carried Machias saw a familiar face and felt a surge of relief.
Somehow, despite the sudden pain in his back, he managed to land on
the top of one of the upthrust rocks. He tumbled down the side until
he landed against the broad base of a sheltering pine. He stood,
shaking his head and his back to get the needles from his feathers.
"Machias," the one man said with a gentle laugh. "Is everything all right?"
"Now that I've found you, Thuring, it may be. We've got a plan to
enter by the eastern castle gate. The men from Fjellvidden and from
the south are there already. We have to be there before dusk though
because that's when the guard changes." He gasped for breath and
slumped back against the tree. One of the dogs circled around and
sniffed at him curiously. He batted at the large canine's nose with
one wing. The first time they'd met two months ago the dog had tried
to take a bite out of his wing, but Thuring had taught them to treat
the puffin as a friend.
Thuring and his friend glanced at each other as they gathered the
dogs. "We're breaking camp even now. We'll just ride a little harder
to the bridge now. Come on, you can ride with me. You can tell me
more along the way."
"Thank you!" Machias hopped back to his webbed feet and then onto the
large northerner's arm. Together they went back into the shelter of
the rocks to where the rest of the men and horses waited. Only a few
of their tents remained standing as they hurried to stow their gear.
Seeing those burly men made indomitable by the bitter, northern
winters, winters that made anything that happened at Metamor seem a
balmy summer day, gave the puffin hope again.
They just might be able to win this fight after all.
----------
The tanner's trail was not difficult to follow, but it was twisted
and doubled-back on itself several times. The man had made sure that
he had not been followed and done his best to look like he was going
everywhere but where he was going. But his path led Gmork's pup
inexorably westward. They darted along on all fours as the clouds
above began to disperse and the stars of night revealed themselves
for one last glimmering shine before the dawn dismissed them as if
with a flick of the wrist.
Eventually the path led them beyond the last line of homes that
clutched to the city's crumbling walls and passed into the scattered
copses of trees newly grown at Fjellvidden's western periphery. They
did not follow the east-west road, but moved south along old beaten
tracks toward the old mill abutting the smaller river whose name
Gmork's youngest did not know.
They stopped and hid themselves within a copse of trees that afforded
them a good view of the mill. They could hear the groaning of the
waterwheel as it turned, the firm press of the river as it rushed
headlong into the Arabas, and a gentle breeze moving through the
upper floor of the building. The mill was built on a stone
foundation, but, mostly it was wood and it creaked with each turn of
the air. They saw no lights, but they could smell not only the
tanner, but several other people as well.
The pups looked at each other, their long snouts breaking in hungry
grins. The younger licked his nose and cast a quick glance at the
mill before turning back to his older brother. In a quiet whisper,
more wolf growl than human voice, he asked, "What now?"
His brother wagged his naked tail, paws digging at the ground as his
eyes narrowed and his ears folded back against his head. "Wait, watch
and listen. They have nowhere to go. I am going to cast eyes. I'll
see everything but they will not see us."
The youngest waited, panting slightly as his brother slid away and
back around the trees a good distance from the mill. After his
brother was gone to sight, he crouched low and allowed his body to
melt back into a more human guise. The fur retracted over most of his
flesh apart from his tail, his pointed, mobile ears, and along strips
of his legs. His canines were sharp and long but the rest of his
teeth were human enough. He straightened out his robe where he lay,
taking care to make sure the heraldry over his left breast was
unmarred by either crease or dirt.
Once satisfied, he returned his undivided attention on the mill. His
father's enemies were hiding in there. It both saddened and
infuriated him that any would hate his father.
Far above the sky brightened with the promise of dawn. He swallowed
and waited anxiously for his brother's return.
----------
His head didn't hurt and he felt warm and well rested. That was the
first thing he felt after arising from the darkness of
unconsciousness. Blinking his eyes, he saw a long orange beak in
front of him and above a brightening sky. To either side were a pair
of bearded men staring down at him. The one on his right had a red
beard that went down his chest, and he wore a horned helmet that came
just over his brow.
Quoddy squawked in pleased surprise, "Gerhard!"
The trapper shook his head and put a finger to his lips. In a quiet
voice he said, "It is good to see you too, Quoddy. Sorry we had to
knock you out. Had to make sure you weren't one of the mage's pets."
The gull blinked, as if that shouldn't have been his first concern.
He tried to remember what he'd been doing last but it was all a blur.
Something about flying until he couldn't fly anymore. "How... how can
you tell?"
"I can," the other man, who looked similar to Gerhard only that his
beard was peppered with gray as if it had been strewn with cobwebs.
His eyes crinkled and his cheeks were lined where visible. But his
brown eyes were bright with laughter. "There's a way to see it if you
are a mage."
"But... but... I didn't know there were any mages here in Arabarb."
Gerhard nodded. "Harald is not a mage like the sort the Baron used to keep."
"Earth, trees, snow," Harald admitted with a strange sort of modesty.
"If the Baron knew about me, he would have hunted me down. If Gmork
knew about me, he'd make me one of his pups. But.. your friend
convinced me to take that risk."
Quoddy blinked again and shifted about. Laying on his back was never
comfortable and so he rolled onto his side, and then pressing with
his wings and legs, managed to stand up. He fluttered his wings and
folded them behind his back. Glancing around he saw that they were in
a small culvert next to a stream with a small window through the
trees open to the sky. For some reason that made him anxious but his
thoughts were still so scrambled that he couldn't quite remember what
it was. With them were several horses drinking the cold water, and a
few other men who were more rugged than most he'd seen in this harsh
country. He didn't recognize any of them apart from Gerhard.
"But..." the gull finally remembered one thing, "I thought you
weren't going to come."
Gerhard nodded and stroked his beard braid with a half grin. "Changed
my mind on the way back home, then I gathered Harald and a few other
friends who've been in hiding for the last ten years, and we've
ridden here as fast as we can. Just a few more hours of riding and
we'll be at Fjellvidden."
"How... how did you find me?"
"You were making quite a bit of noise," Harald said with a warm
gentleness that seemed so strange to hear from one of the
northerners. "You and your brother."
Quoddy blinked and then stretched out his wings, standing a little
taller and squawking louder than he knew he should. "My brother...
Lubec! Is he... did you see him?"
Gerhard gestured at a sack a dozen paces away near a couple other men
who were watching and carrying bows. Quoddy's heart froze in his
chest and he almost jumped into the air in his rush. But the trapper
put a hand on his shoulder above the wing and held him back. "Don't
be afraid. We didn't kill him. Just knocked him out like we did with you."
"He is one of Gmork's," Harald said with a heavy sigh. "I hate seeing
what that monster has done to our people and yours. Your brother...
that only makes it worse."
"You... you healed my head and you gave me my strength back, right?"
Quoddy asked, feeling his mind start to clear at last. He glanced at
the mage and tried to speak respectfully in his impatience. "Could
you... help my brother?"
His heart fell again after rising so swiftly in hope. Harald shook
his head slowly and frowned like a father at his son' funeral. "There
is nothing I can do. Gmork's magic is too powerful."
"Please don't kill him! He's my brother. There has to be a way to save him."
"There may not be," Gerhard pointed out with morose resignation. "At
the very least we'll keep him alive until we've killed Gmork. That might work."
"The magic controlling your brother is connected to something,"
Harald added with a sigh. "I cannot see what. It might be Gmork's
lifeforce, and if he dies they could be freed. There are many we know
who have also become his. We don't kill them either for that same hope."
Quoddy glanced at the sack and noted that it was shaped like a bird
the same size as his brother Lubec. He took a step toward him but
only a step. "I'd like to see him."
"It's best if you don't," Gerhard whispered sullenly. "He's sleeping
right now, but we don't want him to wake just yet. Not until we've
decided what to do." He glanced at the sky which was a deep blue
steadily brightening. "Dawn will be here soon. Things are not going
well in Fjellvidden are they?"
"Nay," Quoddy admitted. "They captured Lindsey and us. Pharcellus
rescued Machias and I, but Lindsey is still captive. Elizabaeg is
free, and I sent Machias to the mill where she's supposed to be. I
led Lubec away, but... that's all I know. But... if we don't do
something Calephas and Gmork will win and you'll never be free and
I'll never get my brother back. And Lindsey... they'll kill him!"
"Calm," Gerhard advised and held out one hand. "We are not cowards.
We've come this far, we'll go the rest of the way. If we're going to
die then we'll make them bleed for it." He stood, walked over to the
man crouched near the sack and whispered in his ear for several
seconds. When he was finished, the other man stood and mounted a
nearby horse. While he gained his bearings, Gerhard lifted the sack
with Lubec and handed it to him.
Quoddy craned his neck to watch, before turning back to Harald. "What
is he doing?"
Harald smiled and wrapped the end of his beard around one finger.
"Lubec can't stay with us. As soon as he wakes, he may be able to
warn Gmork. Don't fear; he'll be fine."
He turned to object, but the rider gave his steed a kick and the
horse bolted off across the stream out into the west. He disappeared
within the woods before the gull could even squawk in anguish. His brother...
Gerhard's expression was determined and flat when he returned to
their side. "Time for us to go too. Quoddy, you'll ride with me. Come."
The gull let out along breath and, with nothing else he could think
to say or do, meekly followed Gerhard to his horse. At least he'd
found friends; unexpected but very welcome. His brother would be as
safe as they could make him. With that comforting thought in mind, he
flew up to Gerhard's saddle horn and gripped it as tightly as he
could with his webbed toes.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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