WinterMaejic (11 page)

I pushed the covers away and practically launched myself from the bed. The man reached out, but I avoided his grasp and ran for the door. Outside would be safer than inside. Out there were places I could hide, not like in here. No one could hurt me if I could just get outside.

The complicated latch on the door defeated me. The man grabbed my shoulders and pulled me away from the door. With all the might that fear can pour into a weakened body, I struggled. I kicked. I struck out with my fists. My blows connected, and my adversary let out several grunts of pain. But in the end, naturally, he was stronger than I. He gathered me into his arms and held me tight against his chest, imprisoning my arms to that I couldn’t hurt him.

In impotent rage, I sobbed. And the man stroked my hair.

“Donavah,” he said. “Donavah. It was just a bad dream. You’re safe with me.”

And then I remembered Grey. It was he, not Anazian, who held me, who soothed me. It was Grey I was with.

The panic evaporated, leaving me weak and scarcely able to stand. Grey picked me up, with no more effort than if I were Chase, and carried me back to my bed.

“Let me make you some tea, something to relax you, help you get back to sleep,” he said as he pulled the blankets and furs over me.

I shook my head. Shame overtook me, and I rolled over, once again turning my back on Grey. If only Papa were here. He would make everything better. I began to shake from a combination of emotion, weakness, and frustration. Grey placed a hand on my shoulder, as if to try to comfort me, but I shrugged it off. I didn’t want him near me, didn’t want him to see what I’d become.

After a few minutes, I heard him move away, presumably to lie down again on the pallet in front of the fire. I lay awake for a long time after that, afraid that I would slip back into my dream. Grey’s breathing grew regular, and still I didn’t sleep, not until dawn’s light began to show in the window.

When I finally awoke the next morning, the episode of the night before might have been all my own imagination for all that Grey said about it. His bruised jaw and split lip proved, though, that it had really happened.

He helped me to the chair again, tucked a fur around me to make sure I stayed warm, and filled my bowl with porridge, all without saying a word about what had happened in the night. But every time I caught sight of his face, I blushed and looked away.

When I finished eating, he gave me tea in which I could identify easing and healing herbs. He certainly knew his healing lore. Once I was settled, he began preparing his things to go out.

“I have to hunt,” he said. “I still don’t have enough stores set by for the Winter. But I won’t go far, and I’ll check back in on you when I can.”

I nodded in acknowledgement.

While he was gone, there was little for me to do but sit and think. I did plenty of both. Why had Anazian turned traitor to the mages? Why had he tried to kill me? Why had all of this happened?

And what prospect for anything like a normal life did I have now? Virtually unable to communicate, would I simply molder away here, a parasite on a stranger until I finally died in some far-off future?

My thoughts started out dark and grew blacker over the course of the afternoon, although the two times Grey stopped in to check on me, I gave him a warm smile. No point in keeping him from what he needed to do.

Around dusk, I dozed off, only to be awakened by Grey stamping his feet on the doorstep outside and shouting for Chase to come inside. As soon as Grey opened the door, the dog came tearing over to me, wagging his tail and snuffling at me in obvious pleasure.

From the careful way Grey looked at me, I realized that he must’ve seen through the window that I’d fallen asleep and had made all that noise in an effort to keep from startling me awake.

Knowing this didn’t improve my mood. I had an overwhelming sense that I was doomed to be nothing but trouble for the rest of my days.

Grey prepared our meal and hung the supper pot over the fire to cook, then settled into the other chair.

“Well, that was a good day’s work,” he said. “Another two or three like that and we’ll be set for Winter.” I wondered if that “we” included me, or just himself and Chase. I didn’t know which would be my preference.

Chase sat in front of Grey, his head on his master’s knees. Grey scratched his ears, making the dog groan in delight. But he watched me. I couldn’t look him in the eye, but felt his gaze on me as I watched the flames under the pot.

“Chase turns four years old tomorrow,” Grey said.

The irrelevance of this fact jarred my thoughts out of their rut. Grey grinned when I glanced over at him.

“When I was eighteen, Malk took me deep into the woods, four days’ ride away. And left me on foot to find my way back.” Remembering that his family had abandoned him, I could hardly believe that Malk had done this, and my shock must’ve shown on my face. Grey chuckled. “No, nothing like that. It was a test he’d prepared me for, one that I was anxious to take so that I could prove myself. I had all my hunting and traveling gear, just no food and a long way to walk. It wasn’t easy, for the hunt sometimes took me in the wrong direction. But I got home—earlier than Malk expected and for which he was very proud.

“In anticipation of my success, he’d gotten me a pup from a litter borne to one of his cousin’s bitches. When I got home, this little guy,” and he gave Chase’s head another scratch, “piddled himself, he was so happy to meet me.”

Chase yelped, as if indignant at Grey’s words. I couldn’t help smiling—a real, honest smile.

“That’s better,” Grey said. “He was such a cute little creature, chasing bits of fluff blowing across the yard, and later mice and rabbits. I trained him myself, although hunting is in his nature and it wasn’t exactly hard work. And he’s been the perfect companion, especially since Malk died.” He moved to the fire to check on supper and gave it a good stir before replacing the lid. “And now,” he continued, his back still to me, “I have two companions.” He turned to face me, and his face was serious, the expression in his eyes gentle. “Don’t I?”

A lump rose in my throat. Grey didn’t know the first thing about me, yet he cared. He cared about what happened, and he wanted to help me get well. I didn’t understand how I could know these things, but they suddenly seemed obvious. I swallowed the lump and nodded, willing myself not to start crying again.

Day and night, I send forth my thought seeking my apprentice. To no avail. I cannot find her. Xyla remains adamant that Donavah is alive, but even she cannot detect a trace of the girl.

We fly out several hours each day, but the dragon can do no more than that in her condition, and it is not enough.

Sometimes, as I sleep, I seem to feel the lightest touch of her consciousness, but when I awake, it is gone. I am sure it is nothing more than wishful thinking infecting my dreams.

Over the next days, I grew stronger thanks to Grey’s skill in healing. At first, it was awkward for both of us with me not being able to converse. Then Grey came up with something to help me communicate with him. He took a cloth about two feet square and, using a charcoal stick from the fireplace, wrote the alphabet on it, each letter large enough that I could easily point to it with my fist.

This meant I could now tell him things, like where I’d grown up, how I was feeling, and what I’d like to eat for supper, but it didn’t lend itself to long conversations or explanations. I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell him about Anazian anyway, and I couldn’t tell him about losing my maejic.

I tried hard not to fall into black moods, but with no way to communicate meaningfully with Grey, and with nothing to do but think, sleep, and think some more, it seemed inevitable that my thoughts would slip into the same patterns: wanting to go home, wanting to be back with my friends, wanting anything other than what was actually happening.

Somehow, Grey always seemed to know just when my emotions felt as if they were going to explode, and he’d tell me a funny tale or joke to make me laugh. One especially rainy day, he managed to drag out the details of a particular story the whole day, building up disaster upon disaster until I couldn’t wait to discover what it was all about. When he finally reached the end of the story, where the man dies in a freak accident without ever getting to the bottom of it all, I laughed so hard I cried and my stomach muscles hurt.

Every night, after tucking me into bed as if he were my father, Grey sat on his pallet and told me another bedtime story. His soft, deep voice always lulled me to sleep before he reached the end.

But all his care couldn’t stave off the unwelcome dreams. Dreams in which people hunted me. I could never see exactly who they were, for something always obscured my vision; I only knew that I didn’t want to be found. Sometimes I thought I recognized voices: Papa, Yallick, Breyard, even Xyla. But I also knew that it could just as easily be Anazian, trying to deceive me so that he could have another go at killing me. I kept myself hidden.

It hadn’t come as a surprise to me that Grey meditated; after all, he’d been raised by a magician and I was sure he was magic himself. The first time I joined him, however, his eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything. I sat down several feet from him so as not to disturb his own energy field. I closed my eyes and tried to find my calm center, but it was as if Anazian had stolen that from me along with my voice and my maejic. Was even the magic gone? Still, going through the motions brought me some comfort and peace of mind, so I continued to join Grey for morning and afternoon meditations.

Sometimes, especially in the mornings when Grey was hunting, I would sit quietly, concentrating on making Chase hear me. I’d been surprised the first time Grey left and instructed the hound to stay with me. After all, the whole point of having a hunting dog was for it to help hunt. But I was glad of the company, and it gave me a chance to try to regain my maejic.

Not that it worked. And the frustration of not being able to speak or use my hands, being far from my family and friends, not to mention losing my power, overwhelmed me several times a day. One night, as I sat on the edge of the bed, I dropped my cup, spilling tea all over the floor. Grey looked up from repairing a tear in a leather garment just in time to see me stamping my foot. Embarrassed, I burst into tears. He came over and sat next to me. I wished he would go away and leave me alone. Instead, he put an arm around my shoulder and just sat there without saying a word. It reminded me so much of the way Papa used to comfort me when I was little—like when Breyard would tease me in front of his friends—that I sobbed even harder. Grey didn’t say anything; he just held me and wiped my tears away.

As the days went by, Grey spent more time away each day, sometimes coming home well past midday and apologizing profusely for leaving me so long with nothing to eat. Once home, he spent some time outside in the lean-to shed behind the house. Something about his activity had an almost frantic edge to it, as if he were rushing to get everything done before full Winter hit.

But if he were making preparations for that, then that meant I was going to be stuck here—like this—all Winter. I couldn’t bear the thought. To be a virtual invalid, cooped up alone for months with someone I scarcely knew? No, I had to get away, somehow find my way to the mountains and Xyla. That made me think of Yallick. Who didn’t know of Anazian’s treachery. For the first time, it occurred to me that I needed to find Yallick and the other mages. But how could I possibly tell Grey that I needed to find someone when I had no idea where they were?

Late that afternoon, I heard strange stamping and whistling sounds outside. I managed to pull a fur around myself and hold it clasped between my fists while using my elbows to throw the latch on the door. Walking outside was like stepping into a new world. The air knifed into my lungs, yet it was marvellously invigorating. Fresh air! Chase came around the corner of the house and raced over when he saw me, his tail wagging.

I followed the way he’d come, and when I turned the corner, my mouth dropped open at the sight that met my eyes. A large black horse with white stockings and a white blaze stood snorting and pawing the ground whilst Grey strew fallen leaves on the ground of the shed.

“I know it’s not what you’re used to, old boy, but it’s only for one night.”

Chase barked, startling Grey, who turned and saw me standing there.

“Oh,” he said, looking a little embarrassed. “Well, um, I was going to tell you tonight, you see, and . . . Hey, you shouldn’t be out here. Let’s go back inside.”

Chase let out a little whine while I gave Grey a look that meant, “You better explain yourself, and right now.”

Grey looked at the hound and back at me, then shrugged. “Well, if we’re going to beat the worst of the weather, we have to leave tomorrow.”

I stood there in the icy air watching him finish bedding down the horse, whom he called Hallin, for the night. What did he mean, “leave”? Where were we going? From what he’d told me, it wasn’t as if he had family with whom we could spend the Winter. What did he have in mind?

Grey gave Hallin a last swat on the rump, picked up a largish bundle, and closed the door of the shed. I followed him back inside. The warmth from the fire wrapped itself around me like one of the furs. Grey dumped his bundle on the kitchen table, then set about making tea, all the while maddeningly saying nothing.

When we’d settled in front of the hearth, Grey in a chair and me on the bearskin rug with the alphabet cloth next to me, both of us blowing on steaming mugs of herb tea, Grey finally spoke.

“I didn’t say anything before because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get the horse, and I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

I raised my eyebrows in question.

“Well, you know, to go find your people. Get you back to someone who can take care of you properly.”

My jaw dropped. It was as if he’d read my mind. But how, I thought yet again with a frown, would I ever find Xyla and Yallick and everyone? And how many of them were left? Were any of them?

Grey misinterpreted my frown. “Donavah, we have to go, and we have to go now. It’s already late enough in the season that we’ll be lucky to get where we’re going without any trouble from the weather.”

I shook my head again. He set his mug on the ground, knelt in front of me, and gripped my upper arms in his strong hands. “We must. And we’ll manage. Trust me.”

He was right. And I wanted to go. The only problem was the significant fact that I didn’t know
where
to go. Still, going would be better than staying. I smiled at Grey and nodded.

He sat back in his chair, breathing out a sigh of relief. That took the edge off my smile. Was he really that anxious of be rid of me? Well, if that were the case, all the more reason to get going.

“So, where?” he asked.

And with scarcely a twinge of guilt, I simply spelled out, “mountains.”

“All right, east. I know the land well between here and the foothills. We’ll start in the morning.” We both sipped our tea simultaneously. The end of another almost completely one-sided conversation.

After supper, Grey suggested that I turn in early. The journey was going to be tiring for me, he said, even though I’d be riding Hallin. He wrapped my hands in poultices as usual, and I could smell a new ingredient that he’d not used before and that I couldn’t identify. I wondered what it was, but before long, I fell asleep.

Grey awoke me well before dawn. While I ate a bowl of very sweet, very hot porridge and drank my tea, Grey went outside and nailed a heavy piece of lumber over the glass window.

Next to the door sat several full packs: a backpack for Grey and what must be saddlebags for Hallin.

The hammering stopped and a moment later, Grey came in.

“Are you just about ready?”

I smiled wryly as I nodded; after all, what exactly would keep me from being prepared to go at a moment’s notice? I’d arrived empty-handed, and empty-handed I would leave.

Grey finished readying the house for our departure. He threw the furs from my sleeping pallet over the back of the chairs to let them air, then he washed the breakfast things and shoved my cup and bowl into one of the saddlebags. Finally, he dumped water onto the fire to make sure it was out. Then he wrapped me up in my cloak, another of his cloaks, and a fresh fur, which he secured around my shoulders with a metal clip. He stuck a floppy felt hat on his head and a bearskin one on mine.

A few minutes later, I found myself astride Hallin, with Grey fastening the packs to the saddle. The horse stamped impatiently while Grey nailed the door to the house shut. His nonchalant air suggested that he was accustomed to shutting up his house this securely. He hoisted his pack, and soon we were on our way.

Holding Hallin’s reins, Grey started down a track that led roughly east away from his house. Chase ran off ahead, dashing back to us every few minutes as if to make sure we were still coming.

“You crazy dog,” Grey called after him one time. “You know you only end up covering twice as much ground as I do this way.” I laughed, silently of course. He looked up at me. “He’s always like this, but once we start home with me riding Hallin, I’ll really be able to wear him out.”

I winced inwardly a little. At some point, I would have to admit to Grey that I didn’t actually know where we were supposed to be going. And then I wondered whether Grey might like to stay with the mages—and me—when we found them.
If
we found them. But then, what reason might there be for him to want to? Surely he wanted to get back to his life, the one he’d had before I interrupted it.