The Silent Isle (13 page)

The fool,
Dane
thought.
  Had he made it this far on his own only to get lost now?
 
Dane swore under his breath.  He drew a deep breath and opened his mouth
to call out to Rem when he caught movement among the trees. 

Dark figures,
two of them, were moving through the trees between Dane's party and the sound
of Rem's voice.  For a minute, he thought they were his men sent out to
look for them. 
But why would they not carry torches?
  Dane
watched the figures as Rem called again.  There was no doubt about it,
they were moving towards the sound of his voice.  And Dane knew then, by
their silence, by the stealth of their movements, they were not his
friends.  But he saw only two of them.  And he marveled they should
not have heard his own party when they were so close.  The nearest now
was
no more than twenty paces and drawing closer, slinking
from tree to tree. 

Dane turned to
the men kneeling beside him.  "Joseph, give me your bow," he
said. 
"Help Bax with the stretcher and get ready
to run as soon as I say."
 

Joseph
nodded. 

Slowly,
carefully, as silently as he could, Dane drew a bolt from the quiver at his hip
and loaded his own bow. 
"How far to the
walls?"
 

"A quarter mile, maybe a little less."
 

Dane
swore. 
"A quarter mile?"
 

"Is there
anything more I can do to help, sir?"

"No, just
run like hell as soon as I'm up." 

"What are
you going to do, sir?" 

"What I
have to.  Then I'll be right behind you." 

Something
wonderful and terrible happened in the next instant.  Rem called out
again, not very loudly, as though he was afraid of attracting unwanted
attention, and Dane could hear the fear in his voice.  Then he came into
view, a dim gray shape, stumbling through the brush.  He stopped. 
Dane imagined he was listening for the sound of the stream.  He began to
move again.  He was headed for the stream, but his path would take him
right between the silent stalkers. 

Noiselessly,
Dane stole forward several paces, carrying both bows with him.  He
crouched behind a large tree and set one bow on the ground at his feet. 
He peered around the trunk.  He could see the two dark figures.  He
could have reached the nearer one in ten steps.  Rem came on.  Dane
could see the whites of his eyes, like little half moons in his pale, dirty
face. 

Dane leveled his
crossbow on the farther figure.  He let his breath out slowly as he pulled
the trigger. 

He hit the dark
man between the shoulder blades (he knew this though he did not watch it) as he
dropped the first bow and picked up the second.  The second man swung
around as Dane raised the bow.  Dane saw the figure briefly in profile,
had a glimpse of a dark shining helmet with a pointed snout.  Something he
had seen lords in other houses wear.  A style called a
hounskull
,
if he remembered rightly. 

The second bolt
was already in flight and it must have hit home because the figure spun down
and out of sight. 

"Rem, over here.
  Run." 

Even as he'd reached for the second bow, Bax and Joseph had been up
and running.
 

"Come on,
move," Dane shouted to Rem as he turned to follow them. 

Then he was
crashing through the underbrush, breaking branches, tripping, stumbling,
springing
to his feet.  Bax and Joseph made so much
noise he could have followed them with his eyes closed.  He overtook them,
turned, saw Rem running pell-mell right behind them.  He could see nothing
beyond him.  

Bax stumbled,
struggled to get to his feet.  Dane slid on his knees, pushed him out of
the way, and grabbed the handles of the litter. 
Up and
running again.
  Bax up again and passing them. 
Lost from view in the trees ahead.
  Branches stung
Dane’s face and cut his hands.  He kept his grip on the litter.  He
glanced back. 
Rem still behind them.
 

This time, as he
turned his head forward, he caught a glimpse of dark shapes running alongside
them.  Shapes of men, but they moved unlike his desperate party. 
They moved with grace as though used to running in the forest at night. 
He glanced again.  They were gone.  Finally, the light up ahead.
Bax shouting hoarsely, "The gate.
Open the
gate." 

Over-shoulder glance; Rem there.
 
Side
glance; nothing.
 
Trees thinner now.
 
There, a glimpse of the wall.  Slip.  Fall.  Owen's body nearly
jerked off the stretcher.  Pull Owen back into place.  Up
again. 
Another glimpse of the wall through the trees.
 

Finally the gate.
  Half open, opening. 
Men on the walls and in the gateway.
  Torches and
weapons in hand. 
Bax shouting to them to beware.
 
Twenty yard dash across the cleared area to the wall.
 
Passing under the lookouts above the gate.
 

Safe.

Friendly
voices, slaps on the shoulder.
 
The gate closing,
blocking out that terrible forest.
 
Bailus.
 
Good old Bailus with his hammer in hand. 
Bailus smiling
then frowning, looking at Owen.
  "What's wrong with
him?" 

"I'm hoping
Leech can tell us that." 

"And only
four of you made it?" 

"No, we're
all here."  That's when Dane looked around.  "Where’s
Rem?"

"That's
what I should be asking you," said Bailus. 

"He was
right behind me; surely you saw him." 

"Only four
of you made it out of the woods, sir," said Rawl, coming down the stairs
from the wall-walk. 

Dane ran back to
the gate and began to raise the bar.  Bax caught him by the shoulder and
spun him around, pinning him against the wall.  "What are you
doing?  He's still out there.  We can save him." 

"You
already almost got us all killed trying to save his sorry ass once," Bax
said.  "I'm not letting you do it again.  And I'm not letting
you open that gate." 

Dane shoved him
back.  "That's not your decision to make." 

"No,
sir," said Joseph coming close.  "But he's right." 

Dane slammed his
fist against the door of the gate. 

"It's worse
than you think, sir," said Bailus. 

Dane turned
towards him. 

"Edric,
Markis, and Franklin are still out there, too." 

Dane pounded the
door three more times and gave it a solid kick. 

"If you
want to get out there again that bad, I can lower you from the wall, sir,"
Bax said. 

Dane pushed past
him and shouted, "Get me Leech.  Get me someone who knows what he's
doing.  And get Owen to the infirmary, now." 

Several men
bumped into each other as they all jumped to obey him. 

By the time
Leech burst through the door of the infirmary, they had Owen laid out on a bed
and were removing the bandage from his foot. 

"What
happened?" 

Dane filled him
in.  "I think the wound is poisoned." 

Leech knelt at
the foot of the bed.  "Someone get me
more light
." 

Several hands
passed forward candles. 

Leech took
Owen's foot gently in his hand and studied it.  Owen did not stir. 
Leech dabbed softly at the wound with his finger.  He laid the bandage out
beside Owen and studied it.  He smelled the wound.  He made a
face. 

"What?"
asked
Dane.
 

"Nothing,"
said Leech, "It smells like any man's foot would after marching in leather
boots all day." 

He stood up and
turned to Dane.  "You did a good job cleaning the wound.  I
don't think it’s infected, at least not beyond what I can treat.  I don't
think the spikes were poisoned." 

"But look
at him," Dane said, "There's something seriously wrong with
him." 

"I know,
but I think Elias can do him
more good
than I at this
point." 

"The priest?
  Why?" 

"Because,”
said Leech, “I don't think those spikes held any poison.  I think they
held a curse." 

Elias was
already there, as was most everyone else. He had not gone to bed after supper
but had returned to his room to pray and light candles for Dane and the others
still without the walls. 

Roused by the
commotion of their arrival, Elias had gone to investigate, but by then the men
were bearing Owen to the infirmary.  So many had arrived before him he was
actually standing outside the open door of the infirmary, trying to get what
information he could from those in front of him. 

The others parted
now so he could pass.  Leech nodded to him and explained his
observations:  simple puncture wounds, no sign of infection. 

Elias thanked
him and turned to Dane and asked the same questions Leech had plus a few
more. 
“Any markings on the trap?
 What about
the area where it happened? 
How long ago?”
 
He shook his head when Dane said it had been only a little past noon. 
“What has he acted like?  Has he said anything?  You didn't bring the
spike plate back with you?” 

“No.  Is
that a problem?” 

"Maybe I
could have learned something about the nature of the curse.  I could have
tried to read its energies." 

"Can you do
anything for him?" 

"Even if I
knew what I was dealing with, it might already be too late." 

"But you
have to try," Dane said. 

"Of course
I will try.  But this may be beyond my skill."  

"But what
will happen to him if you can't." 

"If we're
lucky, and if he is, he'll just die." 

"Divers,"
said Bax, "And what's the bad news?" 

"He would
come back.  But not as the man you remembered.  And he would not
recognize you.  Or even
himself
.  They would
own him." 

"You don't
have any idea what kind of curse it is?" Dane asked.

"I think I
do.  That's why I'm so worried.  I thought the practices of arts this
dark were only legends - ways to scare priests and witchdoctors too hungry for
power.  But there is one story, one curse, which was always talked of in
such hushed detail I thought there must have been some truth behind it. 
Hope as I might that there was not.  It is sorcery from the cult of Kabali
the Jackal, the lord of madness.  The curse, it is said, is applied
through a wound dealt by an accursed weapon.  The wound itself need not be
serious, but it is the door for the evil to enter the body.  The idea is
to create a kind of sleeper berserker.  The wounded man slips under, is
brought back to the hospital.  But all this time the rage is building,
boiling in his blood, and when it boils over, he awakens.  The rage then
is so strong his body can only endure it for a few hours, maybe less, but in
that time he can do unspeakable damage." 

Elias glanced at
Owen and then back to Dane.  "Has he tried to bite anyone
yet?" 

"Bite
anyone?" Dane said. 

"Could you
lay
such a curse?"  Bax asked. 

"I would
not try to," Elias said.  He took Dane by the arm and pulled him
aside.  "I will do all I can for him.  But do you understand
what I have said?  If he should wake up, if he should so much as stir,
someone would have to be prepared to..." 

Dane
nodded. 

"And they
could not hesitate.  Not even for a second." 

"I
understand.  I'll stay here with you myself." 

"I want to
help," said a voice behind them. 

They turned to
see Mara standing at the foot of Owen's bed.  She was staring into Dane's
face.  He did not know how she had gotten there except that she must have
shouldered and weaved her way through all the onlookers.  Elias cleared
his throat.  "You know something of curses on your island,
miss?" 

"No,"
she said.  "But we know something of breaking them." 

Bax came forward
with a little laugh (it sounded almost nervous) and grabbed her arm.  He
leaned his face toward her ear but spoke so those around could hear. 
"Come on, you little witch.  Nobody wants to hear about your
spellcraft here." 

Mara pulled her
arm free and turned to face him.  "I can help this man." 

Bax gave the
little laugh again. 
Was he actually embarrassed?
  "You
see what trouble you cause, your highness?  You take me away from her for
one day and she starts thinking she's her own person."

"If you're
tired, go and sleep,” Mara said.  “If you're rattled, go and drink. 
But I'm not leaving his bedside till I've done what I can." 

"I'm not
going to let you waste the good priest's time with your lies." 

Bax never
stopped smiling but Dane caught the glint in his eyes.  There was murder
in them.  There was no telling what he'd do to her if he got her alone
now. 

Bax grabbed her
arm again. 

"She stays,
Bax," Dane said. 

Bax trained his
smile at him but the glint did not leave his eyes.  "So, she's taken
you in already." 

Dane brushed
past him and out the door.  As he passed, he nodded to Mara and
Elias.  "Begin, please." 

He didn't need
to have it all out with Bax in front of everyone in the presence of two people
who were trying to save a dying man, who, if they should fail, would rise up
with hellfire coursing through his veins.  Dane knew the quickest way to
get Bax outside was to ignore him and let Bax follow him.  He strode out
into the courtyard and kept his back to the door.  He heard footsteps
behind him almost immediately. 
Good
. 

"You may
think you're all powerful out here, but you don't have any place telling me
what to do or not do with my slave.  Your father couldn't even do that if
he were here.  He wouldn't even try." 

Dane did not
turn.  He gave no sign he'd even heard Bax.  But he listened. 
For the sound of a knife being drawn.
 
For the sound of charging footfalls.
  For any sound
that signaled Bax was finally ready to take their relationship to the next
level. 

Dane unclenched
his fists then clenched them again. 

"You think
you're too good to look at me?" 

Dane turned to
face Bax.  When he did he realized the Johnson twins had followed Bax out
of the infirmary.  Dane wondered if they were here to back up him or to
back up Bax or whether they just wanted to watch what was coming. 

Bax smiled as
though he'd won a small victory.  "You know, maybe I was wrong about
you.  At first I thought your daddy had ordered this mission as a neat
little way of getting rid of you.  But maybe this whole thing was your
idea.  Maybe you brought us out here just to show us how you think you
hold all our lives in your little hands." 

"Actually,
I think he's showing you you'll be holding yourself in your own hands
tonight," Paul Johnson said. 

"Shut up,
Paul," said Rawl. 

"You want
to be your own man, Bax?"  Dane said, and the calm in his voice
surprised even him.  "You want to make your own decisions? 
Very well."
  He held his hand out to the open door
of the infirmary. 

Bax just watched
him. 

"Go show us
all what a man you are.  Go show Mara what kind of man you are.  And
when we get home, I hope you'll be man enough to explain to Bren and Lorna
Manies that you let their son die because you had to prove yourself to your
slave girl." 

"You don't
know that she can do anything for him," Bax said. 

"And you
don't know that she can't." 

Bax stood
there.  He glanced back at the doorway and then back to Dane. 
"To hell with you," he said. 
"To hell
with all of this."
  He turned on his heels and strode off in
the direction of the house he was occupying. 

Dane returned to
the infirmary with the Johnson twins behind him.  The crowd had thinned
out considerably.  Elias and Mara were standing on opposite sides of
Owen's bed and talking in low voices.  Molly stood at the head of the bed,
dabbing Owen's forehead with a damp cloth.  Bailus leaned against the
hearth looking grave as always.  The few other men in the room filtered
out as Dane and the Johnsons came in.  Either people were convinced Elias
and Mara had it under control or they did not want to be around when they
failed. 

A censer smoked
on the hearth; but who had lit it Dane did not know. 

Dane sat down on
one of the beds along the wall.  He wanted to make himself useful but did
not know what to do and he figured the others would call him if they needed
anything.  He remembered his promise to Elias and got up and went over to
the bedside.  He tried to stand as much between Mara and Owen as he could
without being obtrusive.  As he came over, Mara and Elias nodded to each
other.  They seemed to have reached a decision. 

Elias went to
his bag which lay on the table and pulled from it a smooth dark stone with
light flecks in it like quartz.  He went to the foot of the bed and,
taking Owen's injured foot in one hand, began to rub the stone over it with the
other.  He started at the ankle, moving the stone in circles.  Then
he ran it back and forth over the top of Owen's foot and then finally along the
bottom where the spikes had entered it.  All the while he was chanting or
praying in a whisper. 

Mara placed her
hands on Owen's chest and began moving them in circles as though massaging the
skin.  All the while she sang softly, too softly for Dane to hear her
words, and at the times when they sounded most clear he was not sure she was
not using a foreign language.  Her hands moved from his chest to his
stomach to his good leg all the way down to the foot and then she started on
the injured leg. 

"Almost
enough to make you jealous, isn't it?" said Paul. 

"Shut up,
Paul," Rawl said. 

As soon as Mara
touched Owen's right leg, his hand shot up like a striking snake and grabbed
her wrist.  Everyone in the room, except perhaps Mara, started in
surprise.  Dane slammed one hand down on Owen's chest, as though
anticipating Owen trying to get up, and with the other he drew his knife. 

"Wait,"
said Mara, placing her free arm between Dane and Owen's body.  "The
darkness is losing what hold it had on him.  It only wishes to make us
doubt that." 

Dane relaxed his
grip on Owen but did not sheath his knife.  Mara touched her free hand to
Owen's, which gripped her wrist so as to make his knuckles white. 
"Peace," she said.  She repeated the word several times. 

Owen's grip
relaxed and then his hand dropped to the bed with a thump. 

Mara continued
rubbing Owen's leg until she reached his foot where Elias was still working
with the stone.  She waited for him to finish and then he placed his hands
over Owen's wounds and Mara placed her hands over his.  They whispered a
prayer but Dane could not tell whether they used the same words or not. 
Elias stepped back.  He looked pale and tired but he glanced up at Dane
and nodded.