Heartwood (20 page)

Peritus had removed the wooden bar from Erubesco's mouth, and Caelestis mopped the sweat from her forehead with some water from her container tipped onto another piece of cloth. Beata took some longer strips of linen from the bag. Taking Peritus's place, she removed the bloodied wad and examined the wound. It looked clean, but it would take time before it was clear whether it had been infected. She opened the small bowl containing yarrow ointment, which was used to treat battlefield wounds. Smearing it thickly on the linen pad, she pressed it onto the wound again before binding it tightly to Erubesco's arm.

Finally she sat back on her heels and washed her hands with a little of the water from the container Caelestis held out to her.

“She will not be able to continue the journey,” Fortis said from his position a little behind the others.

“I think that is obvious,” Beata said sharply, pushing herself to her feet. “We must be nearing the end of the forest now. That means we are about three hours from Cherton.”

“We should go back,” said Fortis. “She needs rest and treatment.”

“No. We must keep going.”

Fortis pushed forward through the others to stand before her. He towered over her, his whole manner imposing and authoritative. “She may die if we do not return.”

Beata knew this was a key moment. If she buckled now and did as he suggested, he would think he was in charge of this Quest and would continue to confront her. She wondered whether to take him to one side and speak to him, but from her experience as Dean, she knew a public confrontation would be much more likely to make him realise she would not be pushed around, even if he embarrassed her in front of others.

“And she may die if we go back,” she said quietly but forcefully. She indicated the rest of the company and said, “We all have a task to complete and we do not have much time. We cannot keep running home every time we meet misfortune.”

His eyes narrowed. “‘Running home?' Are you implying cowardice on my part?”

“Of course not,” she said smoothly. She touched him lightly on the arm, relieved he didn't pull away. “I know Procella thinks very highly of you, which is why she asked you to accompany me on my Quest.” Her use of the personal pronoun was not an accident. “I shall always appreciate your advice – you are a seasoned warrior – the most experienced of us all, I know, so do not think I do not know your worth. But we have to keep moving. Time is of the essence, and we are foolish if we do not think there will be casualties along the way.”

He said nothing more, and did not continue to challenge her. She turned away and looked down at Erubesco. “We are going to continue to Cherton, and we shall find a place for you there where you can recover. And maybe eventually somebody travelling to Heartwood will be able to bring you back. Now we have to get you on your horse.” She went to motion to Peritus to help her, but Fortis bent and gently lifted up the wounded warrior in his arms. He walked up to her horse and carefully set her astride the saddle.

She was white as milk and covered with sweat, but she smiled at them as she took the reins in her right hand. “I am all right; I can ride.”

Beata nodded. “Just signal to whoever is riding beside you if you need to stop. We will ride for an hour and then take a rest.”

She looked at Fortis and nodded her thanks to him. He nodded back and, turning, leapt easily astride his horse.

She glanced around at the bodies of the outlaws. There seemed little sense in burying them. Already they had sunk into the undergrowth and were partially covered by the leaves and plants that had sprung back over them.

Sighing, she went back to the mare that stood patiently with the twins and the other horses, and climbed into the saddle. Reaching up, she grabbed a large leaf and, withdrawing her sword, cleaned the blade. Throwing the leaf away, she sheathed the sword. “Eyes and ears,” she called to them all. Then, tapping her feet into the mare's sides, she began the journey again.

They were closer to the edge of the wood than they had realised. Within minutes the trees thinned, and soon they emerged into the rainy Hannon landscape. They pulled the hoods of their travelling cloaks over their heads and set off along the mud road, heading south along the edge of the forest.

In the end it took well over four hours to reach the town. They had to stop frequently, for Erubesco grew increasingly unwell, and at one point almost fell from the saddle. From then on Beata put Erubesco on the front of her mare and kept tight arms around her as they rode, but it was slow going, and by the time they arrived at Cherton, everyone was tired.

It was just starting to get dark as the little town loomed out of the rain, nestled at the foot of the hill on top of which was Ogier's castle – the Lord of Hannon who had attended the Congressus at Heartwood. He had left the day after the attack on the Curia, so Beata knew it was likely he would be home. She led the party through the main street of the town, which in spite of the late hour was still busy with carts travelling to and from Hicton to the south and Setbourg to the east, and people going about their daily business.

In the castle, they were met by Ogier himself. “Welcome,” he said, clasping her hand with his right and her forearm with his left. “It is good – although rather unusual – to have you visit. Please, come into the Hall, and you can dine and rest while you tell me your story.”

The Hall was huge, much bigger than the rooms in Heartwood's Castellum. The ceiling was high and the walls were hung with giant, colourful tapestries depicting scenes of battle and romantic stories. At right angles to the wall between the tapestries were long banners on poles embroidered with the Hannon coat of arms, which fluttered in the breeze as the doors opened and closed. In the centre of the Hall was a large fireplace, the smoke spiralling up to the blackened rafters. Around the Hall were long wooden tables and benches, with a larger table along the raised dais at the end of the hall, the elaborate chairs indicating this was where Ogier and his family usually sat.

Now he took them to the tables around the fire, however, and gestured to the servants to bring food and wine. The party sank gratefully onto the benches, warming themselves in front of the flames. Servants took their cloaks as they unpinned them, and spread them out on the unused tables to dry. Ogier carefully lay Erubesco in front of the fire and called for his wife to come and tend her. Skilled in the arts of herbs and medicines, his wife began work on removing the dressing and cleaning the wound.

As Beata began to tell him about the purpose of the Quests, the servants came out carrying trays of sliced meat, bowls of stew, and bread with pats of butter, and the hungry party helped themselves as the servants poured wine into their goblets. Beata told Ogier all as she ate, not realising how hungry she was until the smell of the roasted meat filled her nostrils.

When she had finished speaking, she felt her eyelids grow heavy. Ogier continued to talk for some time, speaking about the Darkwater Lords and the strange way they had risen out of the water, but eventually he saw she was nearly asleep and laughed, beckoning to the servants to bring blankets. The travellers rolled themselves in them in front of the fire, and most of them were soon asleep.

In spite of her tiredness, however, Beata found herself looking up at the smoke that curled in the rafters. She felt embarrassed and foolish as she thought about how she had pictured herself heading a noble rescue party, riding into a town somewhere and confronting this Virimage, and triumphantly bringing him back to Heartwood to save the day. She had been naïve and idiotic to think the long journey across Laxony would be safe and trouble-free, and could not believe the party had been attacked less than half a day's ride from Heartwood. Luckily, they had been large in number at the time; what would happen when the parties split, and she travelled with the now only three remaining Militis in her group, one of whom would obviously take every chance to Question her authority?

For the first time since the attack in the Curia, the thought entered her head that they might not win this fight. Until now she had assumed they would find and activate the five Nodes; that she would find the Virimage and persuade him to return; Procella and her party would slip into Darkwater and spirit away the Pectoris, and in a few months' time they would look back on this period as a lesson to teach them about being overconfident and that they must always be on their guard.

Now, however, she entertained the possibility actually all four Quests for the Nodes might fail and she might never find the Virimage – if in fact he even existed or was able to help at all – and for the first time she realised just how impossible the descent into Darkwater was, let alone the rescue of an object from the clutches of those powerful and frightening warriors.

And if they could not complete the Quests? She thought about the water warriors overrunning Heartwood, smashing down the walls, tearing apart the Temple and, worse, completely destroying the Arbor. A pain grew deep in her stomach and she rolled over onto her side, away from the others so they could not see the tears glimmering in her eyes.

After a few moments of self-pity, however, her natural resolute character began to reassert itself. She could do nothing more than try to achieve the Quest she had taken on, to the best of her abilities. And she had to trust in the others to do the same.

Sleep finally swept over her, and the last thing she remembered was the acrid smell of the smoke from the fire in her nostrils, and the warm glow of the flames on her back.

The next day, the party arose feeling refreshed and invigorated. Erubesco was able to sit and eat some porridge from a bowl, and Ogier's wife assured Beata the wound did not appear infected, although it would be best if she rested for a while at the Hall. Erubesco was distraught she was going to have to stay behind, and cried silent tears as Beata knelt by her side and told her, but she did not protest and Beata knew she understood why they could not wait for her to get better.

“I have failed you,” the injured warrior said softly, her face still pale from the loss of blood.

“Nonsense.” Beata dismissed her words with a wave of her hand. “It could have been any one of us – I had an arrow whistle right past my cheek. One inch to the left and it would have gone in one ear and out the other.” Still it was a blow to have to leave one of her knights behind. It was possible they were going to have to take the Virimage by force to Heartwood, and as yet she had no idea what sort of person this magician was – he could be tall, strong, powerful, or maybe all three.

“Have you seen him?” she asked Ogier as they walked down the stairs to the stables to retrieve their horses.

“No, although I have had travellers here who have.” His stable lads had already brought out their steeds and her horse stood champing at the bit, impatient to be on her way. The horses had been rubbed down and fed well and rested, and seemed as eager to continue the adventure as the Militis. “They all speak of him as a wonderful trickster. Whether or not his skills are genuine, I do not know.” He sighed as she put one foot in the stirrup and lifted herself up nimbly into the saddle. “I wish you would agree to take one or more of my knights with you. You are on a dangerous Quest across lands which are not as peaceful as they once were, and safety is greater in numbers.”

“I shall have Gavius's and Gravis's company until Hicton,” she said with a smile. She had considered his offer, but decided against borrowing his knights, as they were not trained the Heartwood way, and she felt uneasy about accepting the aid of others who may not follow her orders during times of crisis. “Take care of yourself, Ogier.”

“And you, fair knight.” He laid his hand over his heart in the standard salute and she did the same, turning her horse and leading the way out of the courtyard, scattering chickens and goats as she did so, the mare falling into a quick trot through the gatehouse and along the drawbridge to the road.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

I

It was still raining, if anything slightly heavier than the day before, and Beata drew her cloak closely around her and settled into the saddle for the long day's ride. She was glad the cloak was well waterproofed, which kept her mail fairly dry. The knights spread out behind her, and although occasionally Gravis or Gavius rode beside her for a while, generally she stayed ahead on her own, left to her thoughts as the countryside passed beneath her horse's hooves.

That day was a lot less eventful than the previous one, which she wasn't displeased with. After leaving Cherton, the road wound its way through the low hills, passing mostly terracotta-brown fields of ploughed earth, dotted with scarecrows to frighten away the crows that were tempted to eat the seed. Here and there were fields of sheep, and the occasional one of cattle, the cows chewing miserably in the rain.

At one point they crossed a river, and Beata halted on the bridge to look down at the water tumbling beneath the wooden planks. She felt a distinct unease as she gazed at it, remembering the way the Darkwater Lords had sprung from the green channel, taking shape from liquid, and she shivered as she saw how the river had swollen slightly, the water brown from its violent passage from the mountains, crashing and breaking itself on the rocks under the bridge.

Gavius joined her, peering over the wooden handrail. “I wonder how long it will continue to rain,” he said. “If this continues, we will drown long before Darkwater invades again.”

“Perhaps that is their plan.” She shrugged, shuddering as she thought of such a watery death, imagining how it would feel to have lungs full of water, and be unable to breathe. She could think of nothing cheerful to say and touched the mare's sides to encourage her to walk on. She wanted to put the river behind her and would not be disappointed if they did not see another drop of water on this adventure.

The day wore on, and the sun remained hidden behind the clouds, which scudded across the sky in a never-ending river of grey. They stopped after a few hours for some lunch, trying to take shelter beneath a group of oaks that stood by the roadside, but everyone was quiet and nobody felt like talking, and after only half an hour or so they were back on their horses and continuing on their journey.