Quest for Lost Heroes (13 page)

Kiall filled a small copper pot with water and hung it over the fire. Within a few minutes the contents were boiling. Then he opened his pack and took out a thick package, wrapped in oiled paper. Inside were a dozen smaller packages, each decorated with a hand-drawn leaf or flower. Kiall selected two of the packets and opened them. Bruising the leaves, he dropped them into the water and stirred the brew with a spoon. Then lifting the pot from the fire, he laid it in the hearth to cool.

'Smells fine,' said Beltzer.

'How would you know?' hissed Finn. 'What have you made there, boy?'

'It's a potion from willow leaves and comfrey. Both are good for fighting fevers, but the comfrey helps to clean the blood and give strength to a sick man.'

'What else is it good for?' asked Beltzer.

'It helps to heal bones and reduce swellings, and stops diarrhoea. It has also - so my master told me - been used to prevent gangrene in wounds. Oh yes ... it is good for rheumatic pain too.'

'Then while you have the ingredients there, my boy,' said Beltzer, 'better make another pot. I have the rheumatism in my knee. Hurts like Hades.'

When the mixture had cooled, Kiall carried it to Mag-grig's bedside and Finn held the hunter's head while he drank. At first he choked, but he swallowed half of the contents and sank back. Kiall covered him with a blanket and Finn sat at the bedhead, mopping the sweat from Maggrig's brow. Beltzer strolled over and finished the brew, belching loudly.

For an hour or more there was no change in Maggrig's condition, but at last he drifted off into sleep. 'His colour is a little better,' said Finn, looking to Kiall for confirmation. The youngster nodded, though he could see little change. 'Will he be all right now?' Finn asked.

'We'll see tomorrow,' answered Kiall cagily. He stood and stretched his back. Looking around, he saw that Beltzer had fallen asleep by the fire and Chareos was nowhere in sight. The back-room door was open and Kiall wandered through. It was colder here, but not uncomfortable. Chareos was sitting at the work-bench examining sections of wood shaped for a long-bow.

'May I join you?' asked the villager.

Chareos looked up and nodded. 'How is Maggrig?'

'I don't really know,' whispered Kiall. 'I have only been working with Ulthen for a few months. But the potion will reduce the fever. I'm not sure, though, about the arm wound. Perhaps the cat had something trapped beneath its claws - dung, rotting meat . . .'

'Well, he has two choices - live or die,' said Chareos. 'Keep an eye on him. Do what you can.'

'There's nothing much I can do at the moment. That's a thin bow, isn't it?' he went on, looking at the slender length of wood in Chareos' hand.

'It is just a section: one of three. Finn will bond them together for more flexibility. You know what wood this is?'

'No.'

'It is yew. A curious wood. When you slice it there are two shades - light and dark. The light is flexible, the dark compactable.' He lifted the piece and showed it to Kiall. 'You see? The light wood is used for the outer curve, where maximum flexibility is needed; the dark for the inner, where it compacts. It is beautiful wood. It will be a splendid weapon.'

'I didn't know you were an archer?'

'Nor am I, Kiall, but I was a soldier and it pays a soldier to understand the workings of all weapons of death. I'm getting cold in here - and hungry.' Chareos replaced the wood and strolled out into the main room where Finn was asleep beside Maggrig, while Beltzer lay unmoving on the floor. Chareos stepped over the giant and added wood to the fire, then he took dried meat and fruit from his pack and shared it with Kiall.

Thank you for agreeing to help me,' said Kiall softly. 'It means much to me. Finn told me you were gallant.'

Chareos smiled and leaned back in his chair. 'I am not gallant, Kiall. I am selfish, like most men. I do what I want, go where I want. I am answerable to no one. And do not thank me until we have freed her.'

'Why
did
you come with me?'

'Why must there always be answers?' countered Chareos. 'Perhaps I was bored. Perhaps it was because my mother's name was Ravenna. Perhaps it is because I am secretly a noble prince who lives to quest for the impossible.' He closed his eyes and was silent for a moment. 'And perhaps I do not know myself,' he whispered.

*

By mid-morning Maggrig's fever had broken and he was awake and hungry. Finn showed no relief, gathered his bow and quiver and, with Chareos and Beltzer, set off into the snow to scout the trail to the Valley of the Gateway. Kiall remained with the younger hunter; he prepared a breakfast of oats and honey and built up the fire. Then he dragged a chair to Maggrig's bedside and the two men sat and talked for much of the morning.

Maggrig would not speak of the battle at Bel-azar, but told Kiall how he had been a student at a monastery. He had run away on his sixteenth birthday and joined a company of bowmen from Talgithir. He had spent two months with them before being sent to the fortress; there he had met Finn and the others.

'He is not the friendliest man I have known,' said Kiall.

Maggrig smiled. 'You learn to look beneath the harsh words and judge the deeds. Had I not met him, I would not have survived Bel-azar. He's canny and a born fighter. There's more give in a rock than Finn. But he's never liked company much. Having you all here must be driving him insane.'

Kiall glanced around the cabin. 'How do you stand it? Living here, I mean? You are days from civilisation and the mountains are savage and unwelcoming.'

'Finn finds cities savage and unwelcoming,' said Mag-grig. 'This is a good life. Deer are plentiful, and mountain sheep. There are pigeons and rabbits, and many roots and tubers to spice a broth. And you should see the mountains in spring, ablaze with colour under a sky so blue it would bring tears to your eyes. What more could a man need?'

Kiall looked at the blond hunter - at the clear blue eyes and the handsome, almost perfect features. He said nothing. Maggrig met his gaze and nodded, and an understanding passed between them.

'Tell me of Ravenna,' invited Maggrig. 'Is she beautiful?'

'Yes. Her hair is dark and long, her eyes brown. She is long-legged and her hips sway when she walks. Her laughter is like sunlight after a storm. I will find her, Maggrig . . . one day.'

'I hope that you do,' said the hunter, reaching out and patting Kiall's arm, 'and I also hope that you will not be disappointed. She may be less than you remember. Or more.'

'I know. She may be wed to a Nadir warrior and have babes at her heels. It does not concern me.'

'You will raise them like your own?' enquired Maggrig. His expression was hard to read and Kiall reddened.

'I had not thought of it. But . . . yes, if that is what she wished.'

'And if she wishes you to leave her be?'

'What does that mean?'

'I am sorry, my friend - it is not my place to criticise. But, as I understand it, the lady turned you down once. Perhaps she will do so again. When a woman has children she changes; they become her life. And if their father loves them - and the Nadir are fond of their children - then she may wish to remain with him. Have you considered that possibility?'

'No,' answered Kiall honestly, 'but how much must I consider? She could be dead, or sold as a whore. She could be diseased. She could be wed. But whatever the situation, short of death, she will know that someone cared enough to come after her. That is important, I think.'

Maggrig nodded. 'You are correct in that, my friend. You have a wise head on those young shoulders. But answer me this, if you can: does the lady have any virtues other than beauty?'

'Virtues?'

'Is she kind, loving, understanding, compassionate?'

'I ... I don't know,' admitted Kiall. 'I never thought of it.'

'A man should not risk his life for beauty alone, Kiall, for that fades. You might as well risk it for a rose. Think on it.'

*

Finn walked around the deserted camp-site. The snow was packed tight by heavy boots, and there were three abandoned shelters.

'How many men?' asked Chareos.

'I'd say around seven, maybe eight.'

'How long ago?' questioned Beltzer.

'Last night. They moved off to the east. If they come across our tracks, they will be led straight back to the cabin.'

'Can you be sure they are Nadren?' Chareos asked.

'There is no one else up here,' said Finn. 'We should be heading back. Maggrig is in no condition to fight, and your villager is no match for them.'

*

Kiall stood in the doorway, feeling the warm sun on his face. The long icicles hanging from the roof were dripping steadily. He turned back inside.

'How bizarre,' he said to Maggrig, who was slicing venison into a large iron pot. 'The sun is as warm as summer and the ice is melting.'

'It is only autumn,' Maggrig told him. 'The blizzard was a foretaste of winter. We often get them. The temperature plummets for several days, and then it is like spring. The snow will clear within a day or two.'

Kiall pulled on his boots and took up the sabre Chareos had given him.

'Where are you going?' asked Maggrig.

Kiall grinned. 'Before they get back, I'd like to practise a little with this blade. I am not much of a swordsman, you know.'

'Nor I. I could never master it.' Maggrig turned back to the broth, adding vegetables and a little salt. Having hung the pot over the fire, he sank back into a chair. He felt weak and dizzy and his head was spinning.

Kiall stepped out into the sunshine and slashed the air with the sabre, left to right. It was a fine blade, keen-edged, with a leather-covered hilt and an iron fist-guard. Many was the time during his youth when he had walked alone in the woods holding a long stick, pretending to be a warrior knight - his enemies falling back from the demon blade he carried, dismayed by his awesome skills. He hefted the sabre, cutting and lunging at imaginary opponents: three, four, five men died beneath the glittering steel. Sweat dripped from his back, and his arm was growing tired. Two more opponents died. He spun on his heel to block a thrust from behind ... his blade clanged against an arrow-head, shattering the shaft. Kiall blinked and gazed down at the ruined missile on the snow.

Then he looked up and saw the Nadren at the edge of the undergrowth. One man held a bow, his mouth open in surprise. There were seven men in all - four of them with bandaged wounds to head or arms. All were standing silently, gazing at the swordsman.

Kiall stood frozen in terror, his mind racing.

That was a pretty trick,' said one of the newcomers -a short, stocky man, with a black and silver beard. 'I have never seen an arrow cut in flight, nor believed any man could move so swiftly.'

Kiall glanced once more at the arrow and took a deep breath. 'I was wondering when you would show yourselves,' he said, surprised that his voice was smooth and even.

'I did not tell him to shoot,' said the Nadren leader.

'It does not concern me,' replied Kiall loftily. 'What do you want here?'

'Food. That's all.' He saw the man's eyes flicker to his right and glanced back. Maggrig now stood in the door of the cabin with his bow in his hands, an arrow notched to the string. An uneasy silence developed. The Nadren were tense, hands on their weapons.

One warrior eased himself alongside the leader and whispered something Kiall could not hear. The leader nodded; he looked at Kiall.

'You were one of the swordsmen back in the town. You were with the tall one - the ice warrior.'

'Yes,' admitted Kiall. 'It was quite a battle, was it not?"

'He cut us to pieces. I have never seen the like.'

'He is quite skilled,' said Kiall, 'but a hard taskmaster for a student like myself.'

'He is your Swordmaster?'

'Yes. It would be hard to find a better.'

'I can see now why you find it so easy to cut an arrow from the air.' The Nadren spread his hands. 'However, since we must fight or starve, I think it is time we put your skills to the test.' He drew his short sword from the leather scabbard at his hip.

'Is this wise?' asked Kiall. 'There are four of you wounded. It does not seem much of a contest - and warriors should fight over something more valuable than a pot of broth.'

The man said nothing for a moment, then he smiled at Kiall. 'You would allow us inside?' he asked softly.

'Of course,' Kiall told him. 'But naturally, as a token of good manners you would leave your weapons here.'

'Ha! And what then would stop you from butchering us?'

'What stops me now?" countered Kiall.

'You are a cocky young snipe,' snapped the leader. 'But then I've seen you in action, and I guess you've reason to be.' He slammed his sword back in its scabbard, loosened the buckle on his belt and dropped the weapon to the ground. The other Nadren followed his lead. 'Now where is the broth?' Kiall sheathed his blade and gestured towards the cabin. Maggrig stepped back inside. Kiall took a deep, slow breath, calming himself, then followed them.