I ran after him, grabbing his arm. ‘Why are you so angry?’ I asked him. ‘You won! You rescued Piercollo and the others.’You fool, Owen! You heard Brackban back in the marketplace. They have all the tax money there in that damned keep. I could have been rich – and clear of this cursed forest. Now they’ll be hunting me even harder. A pox on your Morningstar!’I felt confusion in my soul as we made our way deeper into the forest – in turns both elated and depressed. My elation came from recognizing the trap before it was sprung, the depression from
walking into it in the first place. It made my plan seem naive and stupid, for I had been outthought by Lykos, and only Mace’s speed of action had saved us.
How had I known of the trap? I wondered at this for some time, and realized it was the soldiers in the sleeping area who had alerted my subconscious. As we walked into the keep, and up the long winding stair, I had seen soldiers lounging on their pallet beds. But the men had been wearing breastplates and boots. No warrior – save one expecting trouble – rests in this way. I should have seen it more swiftly, I know, but it was pleasing, even so, to realize that the weakest son of the great Aubertain could at times think like a fighter.
And was my plan so naive? No. What I had not considered was how the legend of the Morningstar would be interpreted by Lykos. Had he known the real Mace, Lykos would never have expected a rescue attempt. But he didn’t; he knew only the legend. And such a hero would surely die of shame were he not to attempt to aid his friends.
We made camp in a deep cave high up on the flanks of a tall mountain. From the entrance we could see the land around for miles, and there was no obvious possibility of a surprise attack.
On the walk to the mountain, each of the twenty-strong party -save Piercollo, who was in great pain – collected wood and tinder for the night fire. On Wulf s instruction I lit the fire close to the back wall of the cave. In this way the breeze from the entrance forced the smoke up against the rear wall and out of the cave overhead, leaving the air below pure and clean. The wood was dry for it had been gathered above ground, snapped from dead trees. Branches left on grass or moss or earth tend to soak in water and make poor fuel.
Astiana tended to Piercollo’s ruined eye, making a compress of herbs which she bound over the wound. Brackban, Jairn, Wulf and Mace sat together at the cave-mouth – discussing, no doubt, the events of the evening. The other men, mostly militia soldiers who had served with Brackban, stretched themselves out near the fire and slept.
Ilka approached me, taking my hand and pointing to Piercollo. ‘I am not a healer,’ I said gently. Lifting her right hand she waved it, fingers stretched miming the actions of a magicker. ‘That is not
my skill, Ilka,’ I told her, but she continued to tug and I moved alongside the wounded man.
Astiana looked up, but did not smile. ‘It could become infected,’ she said. ‘It was not a clean wound.’No infection,’ mumbled Piercollo. ‘They used hot metal . . . very hot. Very red. The eye is gone, I think.’Taking a deep breath, I placed my hand upon the compress. ‘Tell me if this helps or hinders,’ I said, casting a Cooling-spell over the area.
Piercollo lay back, his good eye closing. ‘Better,’ he whispered. ‘Much better.’ I deepened the spell, my hand trembling with the cold. His breathing slowed and he slept.
I left the women tending him and joined Mace and the others. Brackban thrust out a meaty hand and grinned. ‘My thanks to you, sorcerer.’I shook my head. ‘Sorcery is, thankfully, not my area of expertise, sir. But I was pleased to assist in your rescue.’Talks prettily, doesn’t he?’ put in Wulf.
‘I don’t judge a man by how he talks,’ said Brackban, ‘but by how he acts. I know you did not enter that keep to rescue me; you were looking for your friend. But even so I am now in your debt -and I always repay.’You have nothing to repay,’ Mace said easily.