Summer's Song (chapter 2)

Chapter 21

On the rode the next day, Hezia and Tarin barely spoke. The silence continued as she led them down the right roads and turnoffs, knowing the country and woods like the back of her hand. Unbeknownst to Tarin, his guide had lived here for two years in private, never telling anyone where she made her home. Privacy was of the highest regard in her life. One slip and they would haul her to the Sapphire Palace, where her supposed father lived. 2

Though the Palace was but a five-mile journey from her old village which she could make in a day’s time, she had never met her father and failure by sighting was impossible. She knew by her own maturing looks what he looked like as well as the various rumors circulating through the court. Besides, he would be given wide berth if he did venture out. 3

A rustling in the brush disturbed her thoughts. She halted, signaling for Tarin to stop as well, and listened closely. There it was again! This time it was accompanied by a few twig snaps. Whoever was sneaking around wasn’t the smarted person in the world. They were most likely desperate for food or money and had decided on a little robbery. She listened on to see how close they were.4

The stallion whined. A crash came from somewhere beside her and a bandit, clad in rags, caught her before she could react. He held her around the waist and put a dagger to her throat. 5

Tarin, who was standing beside his stallion, was startled, and had instinctively reached for his sword laced into his saddle, but another thug caught his hand and twisted his wrist, wrenching his arm painfully upward behind him before he could reach his blade and pulled his other arm far back. He instantly doubled over in agony and Hezia was sure she had heard something pop.6

Garson reared up in surprise but, quickly, he settled down again, backing away from the group. 7

Hezia, seeing this, went stock still in dread. The horse was no help. She would have to remind Tarin not to give him any oats next time he stabled the steed. No more long grooming from her. 8

“Now then,” said the thief that held her, “we can play nice, or we can play bad.” He snickered. “Personally, I don’t mind bein’ bad.” He tightened his grip in her and put his greasy face beside hers. The knife edged out a little so it didn’t cut him in the face. “I’m pretty good at bein’ bad, if ye know what I mean. So, how about it, sweet?” He leaned to graze his cheek against hers. She felt his free hand begin to roam uninvited and nearly gagged, wanting to escape his smell and disgusting form.9

So, she thought, these guys wanted more than food. Ugh! It made her sick to think about a man’s libido, which seemed to be active twenty-four hours every day. Did they think she should be flattered to be manhandled and dirty-talked, let alone in the presence of such a beastly man? 10

“Not in your life,” she snapped while turning away, narrowly missing the sharp blade at her throat. Wow. That was a little too close for comfort. I’m trying to get out of this mess without being cut open, she chided herself.11

“’Ave it your way. Just give me your money and we’ll be on our way.” He retreated from his exploration and instead held her wrists behind her so she couldn’t lash out.12

Hezia was now glad of growing up in a small village. She thought of the move one of the stable lads had “shown” his friends, and, uh, sort of her as well. Ahh, brawls were the best way to learn! She wanted to laugh at the thought that she was the one to cause the throw of punches and kicks. Men could be so easily swayed. Of course, she hadn’t meant to kiss Danny before Tom at the Mid-summer festival. And it was just for luck! 13

Now she tried to draw back the image as the bandit did the usual routine of threats and monologue. His hold had loosed dramatically.14

She found it and surveyed the images for a few seconds more before deciding to do it. So, taking a breath, she swung her leg around and cut him off at the knees while ducking her head sideways. He let go instantly, falling back and nearly slicing his neck with the dagger. She ended up sitting on his legs for a moment The instant he let go, she sprinted to Tarin and pounced onto the bandit holding him.15

For a moment she wondered if she was crazy. By Tarin’s face, she knew he did too. The bandit had to weigh more than Garson. She was able to free Tarin’s arm and pin the brigand to the ground face-down, despite his greater size. The knees were the most supportive and one of the easiest joints to buckle. The bandit wiggled to get free and she pressed down harder, crushing his face into the dirt.16

Tarin, bewildered, shook out his arm, took to his sword and held it just a few inches from the other down man’s throat. The would-be thief groaned and gasped at the sword. He looked up the blade with terror-filled eyes and gulped. Hezia watched on from her seat on the other man’s back.17

“Why don’t you get out of here?” It wasn’t a question. It was an order. Actually, Hezia was impressed. This had to be the first time she had seen him give an order besides to the unhelpful horse. At least he seemed just enough to give the men their lives. Most lords would slash their throats and be away with them.18

The bandit looked from him to Hezia holding down his partner. Fear was showing in his eyes.19

“Come on then,” the man said, crawling back and slowly away from the rapier, shakily standing up. “Ye heard wha’ these nice people said. Let’s get out of ‘ere.” Hezia got off the man, who immediately ran back into the forest followed by his partner.20

Hezia rushed to Tarin’s side. “Are you okay? Anything hurt?” Her voice held a concern Tarin had never heard before. She tried to control her voice a little bit after seeing how Tarin reacted uncertain toward it.21

“Nay,” he answered looking into her eyes. She swiftly cast them down to the ground to inspect herself. “My wrist just smarts a tad. What of you?” He looked her over with his eyes very quickly. She saw he lingered at her throat and she instinctively put a hand to it to see if she had gotten scratched. A tiny drizzling mark that was near dry. The rest of her was fine too. Just some mud, dirt, and she had skinned her knee a little. Nothing life threatening. That had been a close escape none the less.22

“I’m—” Before she could finish, a dagger whipped past her ear and she heard the thief amidst the trees yell back, “A partin’ gift for ye!” The dagger sliced Tarin on his forearm, cutting deep. It hurled itself to the ground, unbalanced by the blood and steered off by the contact. It lay in the dirt, the sinister blade red with Tarin’s life blood. 23

She looked to the cut. She came to his side to stop him from going off, sixteen years of drilling keeping her from going after the bandits herself. She put her hand to the sides of it for better view of the gash. It began to bleed immediately, dripping crimson blood onto Tarin’s tunic and a little on her hand. She pulled away and wiped her hand on her leggings. He cringed as the air made touched the open wound and was about to start after the throwers again when Hezia held him back.24

“Don’t. We have to stanch the blood before you go into shock.” She considered the cut for a moment more. “It looks deep. Have you any supplies in your saddlebag?”25

“Nay. I never thought I would need them.” He looked down at the wound and cringed again. The vulnerability in him at the moment brought back memories with the midwife in the infirmary. She instantly remembered all her lessons, long ago though they were but still clear in her mind. To stop bleeding: wrap, apply pressure, and elevate. Add herbs to slow infection and blood loss.26

She shifted to the horse’s saddlebag and ignored the animal’s head as it bumped against her shoulder. Hezia gave Garson a dirty look and shifted through the bag past the bundles of food and wrappings, canteen of water, pouch of money, and heavy cloak “Oh dear. Have you extra clothes? Nothing but a cloak? Well, even with a sword, that will be hard to cut and wrapping it would be hazardous. Great, what shall we do? The next village is nearly five miles yonder. Infection will set in before we arrive there.” She thought fast. Finally, she decided to make a grave decision. “Come. My cottage isn’t far. ‘Tis quaint but I do have some gauze and herbs.” Ripping a narrow strip off the hem of her tunic, a great feat with deer hide, Hezia made a small pad and wrapped the gash up tightly with the makeshift bandage, tying it taunt. She then helped him onto his horse, which had remarkably stayed calm during the fiasco. She looked closely at the horse. 27

“This horse’s sire was quite a war horse.” She meant it as a joke, but as she looked at Tarin she saw his face was serious. She guided the horse off the path and into the trees, opposite of where the thugs had gone, and then gently positioned his arm up Garson’s neck to elevate it.28

“How did you know? He was indeed.” Then, suddenly, Tarin’s mouth launched full with questions. “And why were you traveling at night if your grandmother lived so close? And, for another, where in the world did you learn to fight like that back there? Why do you not live amongst a village, or do we take a shortcut?” His voice sounded weary.29

Her head ached. Did he have to ask so many questions? Just one little attack can’t make you that curious. She shook her head and took up the loose reins, pulling them over the horse’s head. “All in good time, my lord, all in good time. First, we must get your wound cleaned and bandaged before you get an infection. You have no idea how nasty they can be.” How many times had she seen the mid-wife, who was basically called a witch-doctor as well because of her knowledge of herbs, cut of a limb that had festered on a farmer or craftsman? 30

She still shivered every time she thought about it, had seen it done. Blood dripping from sawed off limbs. Skin recoiling from the flesh. Knife glittering in the candlelight. Once had a man had died from shock and blood loss, and had opened his mouth in one final effort to quail the pain. His cries came as she conjured up the poor image. Yes, those memories of his were crystal clear in her head. Agony, hunger, sickness, what hadn’t that deprived man been through? She knew she couldn’t be able to live so. 31

She looked at her care with consideration. The best thing other than leaving by the roadside (she hadn’t the heart for that) was to take him home with her and patch him up there. 32

Tarin began to sway in the saddle. She held his leg to keep him up as he past out in fatigue. The loss of blood and shock was beginning to take its effect and she worried more over that than the feel of his clad calf. She grabbed the cloak in the saddlebag and pulled it over him to keep him warm. She had to get him to the cottage quick if she was to sew him up before he regained conscious.33

Unknown to either Hezia or Tarin, mysterious eyes followed their motions, especially Hezia’s. An evil glint was in them. Slowly, the owner’s feet began to trail them through the forest, silent among the brush. The horse’s footsteps covered any brush against tall weeds or snapping twigs if any at all were made. They didn’t notice the matching pair of hands take up the dagger and put it in the owner’s scabbard on their leg. Moreover, branded on the hilt, they did not notice the crown of the Savernan Kingdom, enemy of Emperor Kawroe and the Arca Empire, twinkling in the shy sunshine. 34