Honor Crowned (11 page)

             
Jorem knelt by the boy.  “So, you’re still alive, I see,” he said in a light tone.

             
“I’m fine sir,” Willy said stubbornly.  “Nell just won’t let me get up.”  The boy’s face was sullen.

             
“Well,” Jorem chuckled, “as far as you flew and as hard as you landed, it probably is best that you lie still until someone takes a look at you.”

             
As they spoke, an elderly woman bustled over to them.  Her pepper-gray hair was bound in a tight bun.  Though short and stout, the determined look on her face and the aggressiveness of her pace caused others to make room for her to pass.  A loose fitting blouse puffed out from a dark brown vest that strained at its laces.  Bag in hand, she marched up to them and stopped with a hand on her hip.

             
“So, William,” she said sharply, “you’ve managed to survive again.”  Her tone was sharp, but her concern for the boy was evident.  “It’s no wonder your mother loses all patience with you.  I swear, I spend more time patching you up than any three others combined.  Well, let’s have a look at you.”             

             
With the boy well in hand, Jorem exited the courtyard and went out to the clearing.  There he found Pentrothe bent over the carcass of one of the beasts.  This one had lizard-like skin, long skinny arms with sharp talons tipping each of it bony fingers, and a flat head on top of a sinewy, featureless body.  Countless razor sharp teeth rimmed its wide, gaping mouth, while pale white eyes bulged from their sockets.

             
Pentrothe looked up as Jorem neared.  The old wizard’s long gray beard nearly touched the ground.  His robe was wrinkled and stained, and looked to have been slept in.  Pentrothe extended his pale, aged hand and passed it slowly over the beast.  Pulling back his hand, the look on his face turned grave.

             
“This beast is not of nature,” he said in a gravelly whisper, “nor do I think are many of the others.  Once perhaps they were, but a terrible magic has been used to change them to what they are now.  Never have I met a mage with the power to do such a thing.  To create one such creature would require more magic than I could conjure in a lifetime.”

             
A cold shiver went up Jorem’s spine.  “The mages with the approaching army, do you think they have such power?”

             
“Let us hope not,” Pentrothe whispered.  “Let us hope not.”

             
“And if they do?”

             
“If they have that kind of power they could destroy the entire area in the blink of an eye.”

             
Jorem instinctively reached for the amulet hanging around his neck.  If it came to a battle with mages, surely she would help.  Pentrothe saw the movement and knew the cause.

             
“Zensa is a very strong mage,” Pentrothe admitted.  “But even she, against such power and without the support of her Dragon Lord, would perish.  She would, I am quite certain, sacrifice herself in an attempt to save the two of us.  I would prefer, however, that you did not ask such of her.”

             
“Then we will do what we must do and hope it is enough,” Jorem said firmly.  “The meadow I told you about is in that direction,” he pointed, “just left of the double peak in the distance.  I’ll send three men to bring back as much of the rock you call base as they can carry.  Do you think you can find enough of the reactant material to make such a large quantity?”

             
“If you can find some willing hands to hunt and carry for me, I’ll see what I can do.”  Pentrothe’s voice carried a bit of stubborn pride.

             
In short order, Pentrothe and a number of children had disappeared into the stables.  For everyone else, the tasks at hand would be far less pleasant than mucking through a stable.  In order to get things back in place, the bodies of the monsters would have to be removed.  The logical place was into the chasm.  It would have been best to burn them, but that would have to wait until another time.

             
After having his men take an initial pass through to ensure that everything was indeed dead, Jorem had the lighter, quicker children retrieve arrows.  Some were squeamish about pulling arrows out of the creatures, while others seemed to relish showing that they were not afraid.  The adults gathered ropes and began hauling the corpses to the crevasse.

             
When dusk set in and the light started to fade, Jorem called a halt to the work.  Dealing with dead bodies was bad enough.  Doing so in the dark was more than he wanted to ask of anyone.  Someone suggested torchlight, but the flickering light of a torch and the dancing shadows they created didn’t seem like a good idea.

Chapter XVII

Over a simple meal of soup and coarse bread, Jorem and a few others sat discussing what needed to be done before the army arrived.  Most of the stakes in the trenches would need to be replaced.  Then the trenches would need to be recovered and the camouflage redone.  The most strenuous part would be the removal of the rest of the monster’s carcasses.  Once that was done, the rest would be much lighter work.

“We should send someone to check on those you sent into hiding,” one elderly woman said.

Jorem knew they could spare a few people and the more he could get out of harm’s way, the better, especially the children.  He turned to Neth.  “Do you think we can get anyone to go?”

“I’ve had a few voice their concern over leaving Cort to care for all of them.  Nothing like a day like today to remind you there’s nothing glorious about war.  I’ll have as many as are willing head down first thing in the morning.”

Jorem nodded.  “Encourage as many children to accompany them as you can.  I’d rather not have a child facing an armed warrior with nothing more than a shovel.”

“Do you think the army will breach the walls?” a young boy asked.

All talk at the table stopped and the room quickly became silent.  No one wanted to hear the answer.  No one dared ignore the question.  Jorem could feel everyone’s eyes upon him.  Keeping his expression calm but serious, he turned to the boy.

In as grave a tone as he could muster, Jorem replied.  “It’s not a question of whether they will breach the walls; they will.  What worries me is how many will reach the walls.  These will be warriors, men trained and armed to do battle.”

“I’m not afraid!” the boy said stubbornly.

“There’s nothing wrong in being afraid,” Jorem said in a subdued tone.  “There’s nothing wrong in running away.  All you get out of dying is dead.  Live every moment you can and fight to help others to do the same.  I’ve read of battles where both sides fought until no man was left standing.  Perhaps if some of them had been a little more fearful, there would have been someone left to live for what they were fighting for.”

The boy looked at Jorem in confusion.  “You aren’t afraid are you?”

“Yes!  Yes, I am,” Jorem stated bluntly.

“Then why are you still here?” the boy’s disbelief was obvious.

“Because my fear for you is greater than my fear for myself.”

Before the boy could say anything more, Jorem stood and turned to Neth.  She said nothing, but her silence said all she needed it to.

“I’m going to check on the sentries,” Jorem said with a sigh.  “Send word of our plans to Cort so he knows what to expect.”

The room was very quiet as he made his way out.

************

It was nearly midday by the time the last of the creatures’ bodies fell to the depths of the chasm.  Even in the cool mountain air, sweat dripped from Jorem’s brow.  It had been days since he’d had time to bathe and he felt the grime as he wiped the sweat from his face.

While those with the strength to do so had been moving the carcasses, the rest had been gathering branches, sticks and brush to reset the traps.  Save for the trees, the ground for some distance into the forest was nearly bare.  Not for the first time, Jorem marveled at the will and determination of these people.  Though they tired quickly, young and old alike, after a short rest, they would press themselves back into the work.

A shout went up from near the trees.  Jorem looked over to see emerging from the forest the men he’d sent to the meadow to retrieve the gray rocks for Pentrothe’s concoction.  Each man was burdened with a large sack, heavy laden with the ore.  He sent them to the Keep with orders to assist the wizard with whatever he needed.

While everyone else concentrated on replacing the stakes in the trenches and remaking the camouflage, Jorem went to inspect the building at the edge of the clearing.  For such a simple structure, it was built quite sturdy.  The thick walls and sturdy roof were necessary to handle the heavy snowfall received at this altitude.  Even the floor was made of heavy planking.

The stove was small and well-used, judging by its blackened appearance.  Numerous burn marks marred the plank flooring around the stove.  The stove door squeaked lightly as Jorem opened it.  A fire had already been laid, ready for starting.  Even without a fire, Jorem could feel the air flow into the stove to be drawn up a pipe stretching from the stove to the roof.

The table was a simple affair.  One side of the table was fastened directly to the wall.  The other side was supported by two stout legs.  The top was a slab of wood nearly a hand span thick.  Jorem could see no seams in the surface and guessed it to be a single piece from the trunk of a forest giant.

Drawing one of his stronger blades from its hidden sheath at his thigh, Jorem knelt and peered intently at the floor.  Sliding the blade into the largest gap he could find, he pried gently at the plank.  First one side and then the other, back and forth he pried and jimmied until, at last, the plank came loose.

With the first plank out, the next was far easier to remove.  The planks were held up off the hard packed ground by a series of beams lying perpendicular to the floor planks.  Each beam was spaced about an arm’s length from the other.  The planks were secured to the beams with wooden dowels pressed through holes drilled through the planks and into the beams.

Working his way across the room, Jorem carefully pried up and removed each plank, then piled them against one of the walls to keep them out of the way.  The floor planks under the table legs were wedged in so tightly he was forced to leave them in place.  When he got to the stove, Jorem stopped to take a break.  Looking around, Jorem realized that the light coming from the open door was fading. 

Poking his head out the door, Jorem saw that the sun was dropping down toward the horizon. The task he’d set for himself was taking longer than he had hoped.  Peering back into the building, he could see that there was still much to be done.  If he was to be ready, he would have to work well into the night.  For that, he would need some light.

The clearing was nearly deserted.  Only a few people were still out scattering debris to cover the trenches, and they were near the Keep.  With a quick glance to find the flags marking the safe crossing spots, Jorem started for the Keep.  A slight noise came from behind him.  In the blink of an eye, Jorem drew his sword, spun around and crouched, ready for attack.

Hector’s eyes grew wide and he held his hands out to show that they were empty.  The scout was still several paces away and exhibited no desire to move until Jorem sheathed his sword.  Even then, he moved slowly and kept his arms extended.

“Sorry about that,” Jorem said.  “I guess I’m getting a little nervous.”

“No problem,” Hector said warily.  “I’m just glad I’m on your side.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual.  If you’d had a bow, I’d be a pin cushion.”

“Maybe,” Hector snorted.  “Lucky for you I didn’t see any bowmen with the enemy.”

“How far away are they?”

“At the pace they’re setting, about a day’s march, unless they march through the night.”  At Jorem’s look of alarm, the scout continued, “Don’t worry, they won’t.  Con and Braden are giving them ample reason to avoid wandering about in the dark.  I’d say they’ll get here tomorrow evening, a mark or two earlier than now.”

Jorem relaxed a little.  “Do they have any scouts of their own?”

“They did.”  Hector’s smiled revealed a row of pearly white teeth.  “I dissuaded them from their duties.”

************

When Jorem returned to the small building, he started by doing a closer examination of the stove.  It was basically a small metal barrel on its side.  The center of one end had a door in it.  The other end had a pipe coming out on top.  Four legs held the whole thing about two hand spans above the floor.

Jorem knelt down and marked an X on the floor planking directly under the stove.  After removing the kindling and sticks from the stove, he dragged the stove out of its corner, leaving the pipe dangling in the air.  Hoisting the stove up, he turned it over and set it on the table.  His shadow danced around the room from the light of his flickering candle.

Taking up a second candle, Jorem lit it from the one burning on the table beside the overturned stove.  Once it was burning well, he held it sideways allowing the melted wax to drizzle into the bottom of the stove.  Pulling a length of string from his pocket, he then gently pressed one end of the string into the still-soft wax.

Once the string was fixed in place, Jorem added more wax until the string was well-seated.  Walking back to the corner where the stove had been, Jorem finished prying up the last of the planks.  Taking the plank he’d marked with an “X”, he seated himself between two beams.

With the plank resting on his lap, Jorem took a blade and began gouging at the “X”.  Bit by bit, sliver by sliver, he worked away at the plank.  The deeper he went, the slower he seemed to progress.  After what seemed like hours, his blade finally broke through the other side of the plank.

As he worked at carving out the sides of the newly made hole, something in the room changed.  It felt as if someone was staring at him.  Wedged between two beams with the floor plank on his lap, there was no way to move quickly.  Sliding the plank off his lap, he got a good grip on the blade in his hand.  Leaning forward, Jorem swiveled himself around while leveraging himself to his knees.

Jen stood just to the side of the table.  Unless she had come through the wall, she must have appeared there, for he had been facing the doorway.  At the sight of her, Jorem froze.  She looked so… regal, yet sad.  She wore a light-colored green gown with billowing sleeves.  A golden braided band encircled her narrow waist and light glinted from gem-like bits covering her dress.

Her face was pale and serious.  A wisp of her light brown hair dangled between her soft brown eyes.  Her hair had grown so it now just brushed her shoulders even though it was curled.  She looked like a fairytale princess out of a storybook.  Jorem’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at her.

“When did you become so beautiful?” Jorem said, unable to look away.

He stood and took a step toward her.  His foot caught on a beam making him stagger and nearly fall.  Catching himself, he made his way to the table.  Jen looked amused and all Jorem could do was shrug his shoulders.  Nimble and quick he might be in a sword fight, but with her near, he still felt awkward.

“You look tired,” Jen said quietly.

“Mmmm,” Jorem nodded.  “I suppose I do at that.”

“You should get some rest before…,” Jen’s voice trailed off.  “How long before the—,” she stopped, unable to finish the question.

“Before the battle?” Jorem asked.

Jen nodded.

“Tomorrow, sometime after midday.”

A tear etched a glistening line down Jen’s face.  “I spoke with Dragon Mage Zensa today,” she said in a slightly quavering voice.  “I told her about your situation.  She said she wanted to help, but that she was onto something that couldn’t wait.”  Another tear followed the first.

“It’s all right, Jen,” Jorem said softly.  “Dragons and their mages see things differently than most.  Pentrothe said it had something to do with perspective.”

“I can’t lose you.”  Her words came out in a sob.

“You won’t!  You won’t!” Jorem said firmly.  “So long as any part of me exists, I am yours.”

Oh how he wanted to hold her in his arms and brush away her tears.  To hear that she felt for him as he did for her!  Her image blurred and she looked away.  When she looked back, she was once again in control.

“I have to go.”  Her voice was tight and even.  “Please be careful.”

“I will,” Jorem said, nodding.  “We’ll talk again, after.”

Jen’s image slowly faded from view, leaving Jorem alone.  He stood staring at the spot where she had been.  He wanted her to come back, but knew she wouldn’t.  Was it truly the life bond making his feelings for her so intense?  Or was it, perhaps, the young girl who had spent so much time teaching an oafish boy how to dance?

Taking up the plank he had been working on, Jorem examined the hole he’d carved into it.  The hole was nearly the size he wanted.  A little more work and he would be able to put his two fists through together without rubbing the edges.  The blade he’d been using proved to have lost its edge.  Sliding the blade back into its hidden sheath he pulled out another and got back to work.

With a sharp blade, it didn’t take long before the hole was big enough for its purpose.  Stacking the plank with the others, Jorem took the candles and headed for the Keep.  The clearing was dark and deserted.  Even holding the candles up high, Jorem could not see the flags marking the safe crossing places.

Looking up, Jorem could see the moon peeking from behind a small bank of clouds.  Stars were sprinkled across the black velvet sky, tiny lights twinkling in the darkness.  Not wanting to spend the rest of the night searching for the flags with the feeble light of the candles, Jorem blew them out and waited.

Gradually, his eyes adjusted to the darkness.  The light from the moon and stars brought a glow to the landscape.  Images that before were hidden in shadow now stood out in bright relief.  Colors were muted to the point of non-existent.  Everything—trees, buildings, the very ground itself—was revealed in varying shades of gray.