Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias
Lindsey's stomach swam from side to side and back and forth with each
blink of the boy's eyes. His head would have been swimming too if it
weren't being crushed by a headache that felt more like Guernef
sitting on top of him. The inscrutable gryphon was even shifting his
weight back and forth from left flank to right in order to better
fuse the boy's head with the stone floor.
But despite the agony he would not give up trying to find a way to
remove his true mother's spell. If becoming a dragon in body and not
just in blood was the only way that he could survive, then that is
what he would do. In between moments of austere concentration and his
many treasures of agony, he often pondered cavorting about the sky
and the forests with his older brother Pharcellus while the Keeper
birds circled them cawing their delight. Other times he tried to
imagine how Chief Tathom, Michael, and the other members of the
logging crews would react to having a dragon working alongside them.
Tree hauling duty sounded rather pleasant compared to many of the
other tasks he'd often been given.
But none of it would happen if he didn't decipher his mother's spell
and remove it. First he needed to determine which one it was.
Jessica's spell keeping him a child was a bright pinion in his spirit
that he could feel pressing against him and interlacing through the
black nebulous mass that he knew to be the curse that had made him a
man. Even if he could remove Jessica's spell, it would likely only
purchase him another hour or more of life. But even if he had ten
year's to train, Lindsey knew he'd never be strong enough to remove
one of Jessica's spells.
And there was even less point in trying to remove the Curse. All it
would do would make him a little girl, and not only did he not want
to be a woman anymore, it wouldn't help him anyway even if it were possible.
Which left only is mother's spell. But where was it? Was it the
strange glow that flickered beneath the dark mantle of the Curse?
What else could it be? Lindsey concentrated on that glow and tried to
feel his will along the underside of the Curse. Each time he thought
he could feel the warmth of his mother's magic, a magic that felt so
ancient and yet so familiar, the headache would pound his thoughts
into dust. By the time he could think clearly enough to focus he had
to start all over again.
This continued for a few minutes before his ears, more sensitive than
before, heard the clatter of claws against stone through the closed
portal, followed by panicked human voices. He closed his eyes and
listened to what must obviously be two of Gmork's pets shout
miserable protestations of their guilt and of Calephas's flight down
the corridor. The one who spoke to them sounded gravely with the
beastly growl of Gmork, but the voice was clearly not that monster's.
It sounded familiar but he couldn't place it. Perhaps it was the pup
he'd met earlier.
Lindsey's heart beat a little faster when he heard the news about the
Resistance. He hoped that they were all right, wherever they were.
But after the pup and the two pets ran off in opposite directions, he
resumed trying to study the magical glow within himself.
The headache pressed down on him again and he could do nothing but
breath as deeply as he dared. His stomach felt like a sack of
molasses that had several small holes. His bowels quivered and he
pressed his legs together hoping that nothing would come out.
Several seconds of this and the pain began to recede enough that he
could think clearly. How he just wished he could be home playing with
sticks, chasing dogs and birds, and catching fish. How he wished he
could just see his father and mother one last time even if she wasn't
really his mother. And his brothers Andrig and Pharcellus. What had
happened to any of them?
The sound of claws came running back up the hallway, and his eyes
lifted slowly to the iron door. He heard the latch lifted and the
door swung inward. After only a moment's pause the pup stepped into
the room, mostly human face swinging around to meet his frightened stare.
The pup was not the same one that had brought him to Calephas the
previous night. His legs and tail were coated in dark fur and looked
similar to what he might expect from a wolf Keeper, though there was
something more wild in the posture and in the length of his claws.
His upper body was mostly human apart form dark claws tipping thick
fingers, light brushes of black fur along the backs of his hands and
wrists, triangular ears coated in fur, and a broad nose that was
darkened with slight tear marks on either side. His eyes were a
bright golden hue, clearly the eyes of a beast and not a man.
He bore a tattered black robe that at one time extended to his ankles
but was now torn in long strips. On the chest he could see an
insignia with a red shield with palm inscribed and inside the palm a
white sword. He knew that symbol. Lindsey stared at the face, and
despite the scratches marring the skin, the strange wolf-like ears,
nose, and eyes, he also recognized the broad foreign face with auburn hair.
He gasped in horror. "Jerome!"
Gmork's youngest balked at hearing his name shouted by the sickly
boy. He hadn't heard his name in so long now that he'd very nearly
forgotten it. He stood still, a growl building in his throat. He let
the fur drape his arms as he spread them, crouching a little lower
over the chained boy. "Who are you to know that name?"
The boy gasped and trembled in his bindings, clearly scared out of
his mind in addition to whatever poison Calephas had fed him. "It's
me, Jerome! It's Lindsey! I'm Lindsey your friend! What happened to you?"
He blinked as that name too was familiar to him. "Lindsey... Lindsey
was a man."
"I am," he said again as he closed his eyes fiercely and pressed his
head back against the stone. "Jessica... Jessica cast a spell to make
me a boy... so... so I could... kill Calephas."
He knew that name too. A bright memory of a black-banded hawk came to
him and his still human lips curled into a smile. Lindsey and Jessica
were his friends. Was this really Lindsey though? "Prove you know me
or I will do as my father bids me!" His snout stretched out and he
deliberately bared his fangs.
The boy whimpered and pulled his arms against the chains in anguish.
Gmork's youngest waited for an answer while wondering what it was
that the dead Calephas could possibly have poisoned him with. If he
really was Lindsey, then he'd have to find him an antidote. His
father would never have wanted him killed if he knew that the boy was
one of his pup's dearest friends.
At last, after whatever episode of agony the boy suffered had ended,
his lips parted and he cried, "The Rheh Talaran! The flying horses!
Remember them? Remember what they said to you in the swamp when they
left? 'Goodbye strong and mild, never wild.' That is what they said
to you, Jerome."
He blinked as those words floated into his mind and sank deep
throughout him. The youngest wolf of Gmork stretched wide his jaws,
and flexed his hands as if recognizing them for the first time. He
bent lower, blinking as the memory of those golden horses flooded
through his consciousness. How well he could remember the pounding
beat of air as they pierced the sky, their hooves trails of fire, and
their cries claps of thunder.
The words slid from his long tongue as he stared in wonder at the
boy. "I remember." His jowls curled ever so slightly into a smile.
"You are Lindsey."
Gmork's youngest crouched over the boy and grabbed the chains around
his wrists and with a tug snapped them apart. He then curled his
fur-covered arm around the boy's back and hoisted him out into the
middle of the floor. Lindsey coughed and vomited as he propped on
wobbly hands and knees. He took his robe, his Sondecki robe, and
draped it over the naked boy to help warm him. He then sat on his
haunches and gently stroked his hair softly as he'd seen his father
do. "What did that monster do to you, Lindsey? You look very sick."
"Arsenic," Lindsey replied after he stopped vomiting. The putrid
stench he'd upchucked smeared across the floor toward a drain in the
center. Gmork's youngest was quick to help the boy so that he
wouldn't get any of the foul miasma on himself. He wiped the boy's
lips with the corner of his robe and felt a growl percolate through his chest.
"There's no cure for that," he said through bared fangs. "My father
might be able to help."
Lindsey lifted his head slightly to look at him, shuddering when he
saw him. "Your father? And why... why are you... one of his... his pups?"
The question was rather confusing. He tilted his head to one side and
yipped. "My father helped me be this way just like my brothers and
just like him. He sent me down here to kill Calephas and that tiger."
After a moment he lowered his snout and added. "And you, Lindsey. I
don't think he knew who you were."
Lindsey blinked as he tried to ease back into a sitting position, the
robe bunching beneath him and around his slender shoulders. "Your
father..." And then his eyes widened and he put one hand to the side
of his head. "Ungh... your... your... ungh... father is... Gmork?"
His tail wagged and he nodded. "He knows strong magic. He'll be able to help."
Lindsey scowled fiercely, a rage filling his pallid eyes. "He wants
me dead! He is... is a... monster, Jerome!"
He growled at those words, but stopped himself as soon as he started.
His claws dug at the stone and his tail fixed in place straight
behind his haunches. One part of him knew that his friend Lindsey
would never lie to him. But the vast part of him knew that he loved
his father dearly and hearing anyone speak anything against him was a
terrible crime. And since he knew that Lindsey was telling the truth,
but that his father wasn't a monster, it must surely be the case, he
reasoned as he fought the urge to growl and stretch his claws, that
this boy who was his friend must be mistaken or must have misunderstood.
"That foul baron was a monster," he agreed with a smile, allowing his
snout to retract back into his face. He kept the fur on his arms and
chest though so he could help warm the boy. "And Father never liked
him either. Father sent me to kill him, Lindsey. But he was already
dead. He and that tiger of his were drowned together trying to kill
each other."
Lindsey coughed and shuddered, his flesh turning an even more sickly
white. "At least... there's that."
"But Father, he... he... he is a beast, but not a monster."
Lindsey tensed and then looked into his face and shook his head very
slowly. "He uses his baubles to steal the wills of anyone useful to
him." The boy swallowed slowly as he trembled. "He... he told me
that... if I didn't tell him... about the Resistance that... he'd eat
this old shepherd's guts out. And... he used... his bauble to... make
that man... beg to be killed... beg to... be eaten."
Gmork's youngest swallowed heavily and shook his own head, ears
lowering as if he could block out the disagreeable words that way.
But one word did catch his attention and remind him of just what was
happening beyond the walls of the laboratory. "The Resistance!
They've gotten into the castle. I was to go help my brother once I
finished here." He stood and took a step toward the door before
turning back to look down at the boy. "I'll be back soon, Lindsey.
Father will heal you, I know. I have to stop the Resistance. They
don't know Calephas is dead yet. They'll stop once they know."
Lindsey stretched out one arm and almost fell onto his face. "No!
Don't!" He hacked and heaved dry air three more times before he
regained himself. "Don't go to him. Don't. Jerome, please."
His name again. Yet he did not seem able to think of himself that
way. He was Gmork's youngest. Was not that more important? Yet, his
name was so very important to this boy, his friend Lindsey. It was
enough to make him pause by the door and turn back to the child. "Why
shouldn't I go help my brother?"
"He... is not... your brother..." Lindsey said, each word an
anguished effort. "The other Sondeckis. Charles. Krenek. Ladero."
He took a long breath and stared at the black robe he'd wrapped about
the boy. He remembered those names very well, and the faces each of
them bore. And with that he remembered adventures, laughter, sorrow,
and so much more of years living and fighting along side one another.
He would have without a second thought given up his life for their
sakes. And he knew that he had as well. He had never gone back to
Sondeshara so he could protect Charles who was now a rat with a wife
and children at Glen Avery. He smiled and wagged his tail at the
thought of that wonderful little family.
And yet, as he thought of eldest and the others, even that boy in the
Listening room, he knew that he'd only known them but recently, but
that they were his brothers. This he knew to the depth of his being.
Just as he knew that Gmork whom Lindsey feared was his father.
"You don't understand," he told the boy gently and crouched closer.
"But you are my friend, Lindsey. I won't leave you if you need me.
I'll protect you." He sat on his haunches again and wrapped one arm
about the boy's middle and held him close and warm. "Just fight the
poison. Pray to Eli and all will be well."
And surely his father would come down here soon to check on him and
then Lindsey could be healed. He nuzzled the boy along the back of
his head very gently, wishing that his father would hurry.
"Jerome," Lindsey murmured as he trembled in Gmork's youngest's arms.
"What... did... he do to you?"
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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