"Hallo the camp!"
Kyminn looked up from the stream edge where he was watering the horses to see a man and youth waving from the far bank. Although expected, seeing the gamekeeper and Gaven arrive when and where expected was still a profound relief.
They were two days out of Forst Reach and still a half day from the edge of the Count's demesne. This meeting place had been selected because it was actually a rather poor campsite and not an obvious stopping place. It was also a substantial distance from where a youthful-looking armsman had taken on the persona of travelling prospective Trainee and a young nobleman had disappeared into the brush. Small measures to be sure, but anything within their power to reduce the threat was welcome.
Kyminn waved in response and watched as the gamekeeper and Gaven splashed their way across the stream. Kyminn was pleased to see that Gaven showed no sign of the debilitating fractures of the previous winter.
"Welcome, both of you." Kyminn nodded up the bank behind them. "Cydris should have an early supper started. We expected you'd be joining us."
The gamekeeper jerked his chin down in thanks. "Thankee Healer, we was hoping that would be so. Come along then, boy."
Gaven glanced from the gamekeeper to Kyminn. "Do you need help with the horses?" A small gesture offered to take one of the leads.
Kyminn didn't, his Gift ensured that, but he was gratified to see that the boy would offer. Kyminn wondered if the boy was inclined to pitch in on all counts or simply when it came to horseflesh. It could prove to be an interesting couple of moons if they had to spend it knocking off a few pounds of entitlement.
Determined to reinforce the lad's willingness to assist, Kyminn handed over one of the lead ropes with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Gaven."
Gaven readily took the lead rope and got the horse settled on her picket. With Cydris's permission, he measured out her grain and then did the same for the others. By the time Kyminn had made his own, slower, return, Gaven was examining 'his' horse.
"I don't recognize this one. Where did she come from?" He seemed vaguely disappointed at the animal's uninspiring appearance.
"Apparently, one your father's neighbours made the mistake of bringing a mare in season on the fall hunt a few years ago. One of the guides' mountain stock stallions found her. This is the result." The mare wouldn't win any prizes for elegance, but she had inherited her sire's stamina and her dam's fearless willingness to tackle any obstacle. To Kyminn's thinking, she was well-suited as an all-round cross-country mount.
"I suppose she'll do," Gaven allowed. Kyminn caught Cydris's glance and her raised eyebrow. This could indeed prove interesting.
"Boy…" the single word, drawled and even, had a weight of warning in it.
It drew Gaven up short. The youngster blushed and gave Kyminn a half-nod of apology. "I meant 'Thank you'. It was good of my father to send her."
Kyminn handed his own lead line off to Ansen and with a jerk of his head, drew the gamekeeper aside. "I think I'm missing something here." A raised eyebrow made the statement a question.
The gamekeeper harrumphed. "Lad's not as bad as all that. Just used to having servants at his beck and call is all. My Lord told me to treat the boy as though he were my apprentice and that I have. Can't be calling an apprentice 'sir' and 'milord' and Lord Caridoc made clear that the boy won't be getting any of that in Haven. Still though, I couldn't quite bring myself to call My Lord's son by his given name, so 'Boy' it is." A twisted grin. "That didn't sit so well with his young lordship at first, let me tell you."
They glanced over to where Ansen and Gaven were grooming the horses. Ansen couldn't reach the backs of the dray beasts but Gaven seemed willing to take that part. Judging from the boys' posture, Gaven's unthinking condescension was lost on Ansen.
"That lasted only a few days," the gamekeeper went on. "A few missed meals and a clout on the back of the head goes a long way if you've good metal to work with. I've had him for three sennights now and the boy is coming around."
"And you think this boy is 'good metal', as you put it?"
"Oh, aye. Good enough at any rate. He's got the piss and vinegar you'd expect from a lad his age. Likes to sleep past the dawn and would just as soon not do chores if he can help it, but that's no more nor less than most boys. I raised a handful of my own so there's no moss on me." A gravelly chuckle followed this statement.
"Well, let's hope you're right. Otherwise, this could prove to be a long journey." Kyminn grinned. "Settle yourself down, I'll go check on supper."
# # #
True to the gamekeeper's prediction, Gaven was, indeed, 'good metal'. Unfortunately, molding that metal into a Healer Trainee was not as easy as the gamekeeper had made it seem. While Gaven was, at heart, a thoughtful and intelligent young man, he was also a product of servants, deference and being the youngest son. It meant he carried a lot of unconscious thoughts and habits and, being a thirteen-year-old youth, was not always open to having one's shortcomings pointed out.
When one discovers that a seven-year-old is better at cleaning the dishes than you are, the correct response is not to declare that "Of course she is, she's a girl and of that class." Statements like that, Gaven learned, earn one the chore of doing all the dishes for the next four days – to practice.
The young trainee also learned that dropping one's dirty laundry beside Cydris with "Here you are" meant that the laundry was returned – still dirty – in a heap on one's bedroll. Eventually, you either politely ask for assistance in learning how to handle the chore or wear very smelly clothing. Gaven seemed determined to choose the latter until Kyminn asked if Gaven need his hide cleaned with a horsebrush.
Still, it wasn't all bad. Gaven only tried once to treat Ansen like a groom. The younger boy's bland expression and single raised eyebrow, complete with a look of innocent bafflement, was enough to remind Gaven of where they were. Within a few days, the two boys were developing a cautious truce, centered around their shared interest in all things equine.
Cydris took charge of training and controlling the young Healer's Gift. This was an area where Kyminn was able to offer little help, save to offer his own strength, should she need it for shielding. Like most emerging Gifts, Gaven's was still largely undefined, although it held promise for being fairly substantial in time. Gaven was keenly interested in this new skill and threw considerable effort towards mastering the basics of 'ground and center' and then shielding. The Danner children weren't above getting some of their own back when it came time to try to push Gaven off his center, but Gaven eventually admitted that it was deserved.
As the green of new leaf began to darken, part of Kyminn felt a trickle of relief. The first Foresight, that of Gaven's death, seemed to have been averted. But whether it was averted, or simply postponed – that was a gnawing worry that grew as their little group moved into the dark green of summer and ever closer to Haven.
# # #
"Ansen! Did you find the water pail?" Cydris poked her head out of the canvas flap.
"I did!" Ansen held the errant pail up in answer.
Kyminn gave one last tug on the saddle-horse's girth and gathered up the reins.
SHOCK!
He wasn't aware of clutching at the horse, of the animal tossing her head and shifting in surprise at his sudden spasm.
An unfamiliar brown horse. Deep pain and the scream of a horse in agony.
Scattered flashes – brown hide, fur, hooves, teeth. Flashing blades. A crossbow bolt arcs towards a patch of white hide.
Pain! Painpainpainpain!
"Kyminn!" Cydris knew that expression all too well, Kyminn reeling and trying to brace as Foresight battered his shields and consciousness.
He shook his head, letting it flow over himself, desperately seeking a when, a where. In a heartbeat, it vanished, gone as though it had never been.
"What did you see?" Calm, measured, knowing that these first moments were the most important in capturing the warning.
"An attack. An ambush." He paused, sorting the memories and impressions as he had been taught. "Soon – today." Eyes closed, he turned his head like a blind man seeking to feel the sun. Eyes snapped open. "There. That way. A few miles, I think."
He looked around the clearing where they had so recently camped. The children, including Gaven, were frozen, wide-eyed white faces staring at Kyminn. He hesitated, torn. Everything in him was shrieking to go, Go, GO! But his children were here, vulnerable, along with the boy whose life he was supposed to protect. Kyminn turned to Cydris in an agony of indecision.
"How much time do we have?" Still calm. Still measured. Still his ground and anchor.
A deep breath. "A few candlemarks, I think. More than one, but other than that I can't say."
"Kyminn? What's going on?" Gaven was trying valiantly to keep the fear out of his voice.
"Kyminn has had a Foresight," Cydris addressed all the children. "He's seen something that may happen, and soon. An attack of some kind."
"On us?" Niyeh fled towards Cydris, clinging fiercely to her mother.
Kyminn shook his head. "No. Not us." He was too busy sorting out the scattered memories to notice the relief on his listeners' faces. "Someone else, not far from here."
"Ansen, Mehrhet – sweep the campsite for any last items. Gaven, check that the horses are ready." Cydris was crisp, decisive and the children flew to do as they were told.
"Kyminn," firm and focused, ignoring the chaos behind her. "Can you see anything? Are there any creatures about?"
Kyminn took a deep breath and reached within and outwards, seeking the simple minds that shone like distant candles to his inner sight.
Here, with them are the three horses, nervous and shifting as they sense fear in their two-legged herd. Without thinking, he brushes over them, soothing and settling. Here too are the dogs – Raff, Tip, Bull and Jet, the last puppy of the litter. Her littermates remained in Oakden, happily finding homes in the village. The dogs were restless too, hackles up and growling. Bull's basso rumbling is a tone below that of the others as he circles Kyminn, looking for the threat. With a thought, Kyminn scatters the dogs, using their senses to patrol the brush around the clearing, seeking out that which does not belong.
Farther now. A flock of sparrows, tiny minds scattered and frightened. He dips into them but lets them be. It would be too hard on both of them to wrest a little bird from the safety of the flock. Mind to mind he reaches, skipping through the trees, moving always in the direction of his vision.
There! A youngster on a dark brown horse, empty sacks slung along behind him. Kyminn touches the horse's mind and tastes an eagerness to move this way, up the road to where it knows its hay and oats await.
Forward now, along the track between the pair and here, reaching…seeking. He feels the fear of a squirrel, announcing to all who can hear that there are intruders in her territory. He enters her mind, sees through her eyes. With silent apology, he sends her leaping through the trees, letting her nose tell him what has disturbed her so. One. Two. Three…five altogether. Five men, stinking of sweat and wood smoke, concealed in the rocks beside the track, waiting for when the boy has no choice but to enter the defile to cross the rushing freshet.
Kyminn withdrew, returning once again to his self. Kneeling, he began to sketch in the soil. The boy on the horse, the men, the stream.
"There are five of them. They are waiting for the boy. I can't tell why. They are lying in wait here," he pointed, dropping pebbles to mark each spot.
"How well armed are they?" Gaven's question caught both of them by surprise. Kyminn and Cydris looked up to see the young lord examining the scratches and stones.
"Short swords and at least one crossbow," Kyminn answered without thinking. "But you're not going to be involved in this."
"I've had arms training since I could walk," Gaven pointed out. "I'm not an expert by any stretch, but I'm better than nothing."
Kyminn badly wanted to take Gaven up on his offer. He himself had been at best a modest swordsman when he still had two good legs. Now, he knew he was better off staying far from a fight. As for Cydris, she had never had serious combat training. Although she was fairly able with a bow, her combat skills were restricted to "Block, duck and run".
"No." Cydris was firm. "Our job is to protect you." When he started to protest, she spoke over him. "You will stay with the children. Flee with them if it comes to that. Fight if you have no choice. That is what you will do. Understood?"
Gaven bit off his protests. The realization that Cydris had put the children under his protection made him blanch, but he nodded.
"Good." She turned to Kyminn. "Is there a place we can hide the wagon?"
Kyminn reached again and nodded. "There's a spot just up the road. We should be able to hide the wheel marks well enough. It won't fool a real scout, but it will buy some time."
In the end, it wasn't nearly as good as they would have wished but it was the best they had. The younger children cut brush to conceal the wagon while Gaven and Kyminn unhooked the horses. Fumbling in their haste, they rigged up saddle pads and girths for the horses. As Kyminn sliced reins to shorten them, he wished for a pair of saddles. As well to wish for a company of the Guard!
Cydris made packs for each child. Food, warm clothes, knife, fire starter and a few other necessities. No essential item was left with just one person. If the children were separated, they each had what they needed. The only item she couldn't duplicate was the map. Ruthlessly, she tore the flyleaves from the children's books and scrawled a rough copy of the roadways and the direction of the nearest village. It was all she could do.
For Cellen, she packed only clothes and a few diapers. She tucked in a bowl, spoon and some cornmeal. Ground fine and mixed with water it would do for a few days at least.
"I'm leaving Jet with you. She's not war trained but she'll alert you if anyone approaches." Kyminn handed Ansen's pack up. His son looked tiny perched on the draft horse's back and Kyminn wanted to snatch him down and hold him tight.
Ansen nodded. Niyeh was seated in front of her brother, her eyes wide and somber. Cellen was travelling with Gaven this once. Mehrhet had taken charge of hers and Gaven's gear and was clutching it firmly.
"Remember. Stay here. If we're not back by dark, head for the village. Understand? Don't go back to the wagon, they'll be expecting that." All four nodded.
"Alright then." With a final backwards glance, Kyminn let Cydris boost him into the saddle and then pulled her up behind him.
"Be careful. We love you." It was all he could think of to say.
# # #
There was nothing to say as the road disappeared behind them. Their plan, such as it was, was thin at best and they both knew it. They had discussed Kyminn simply forcing the boy's horse to turn around but had reluctantly rejected the idea. Faced with a recalcitrant beast, the boy might be injured in the ensuing battle for control of the animal, or he might dismount and try to lead his horse. On foot, the boy would be even more vulnerable.
Even if the beast turned willingly and the boy complied (which was unlikely), the threat of the attackers remained. Instead, the intention was to have Kyminn slow the boy's horse to an amble. It would no doubt be frustrating for the rider, but shouldn't cause alarm. That would give Kyminn and Cydris enough time to intercept the boy and turn him aside well before the crossing. With the boy safe, they could hopefully avoid engaging the waiting men. If the attackers remained in a group, Kyminn would be able to follow them from the trees for quite some time – ideally long enough for the Guard to handle the rough parts. Kyminn was no longer wishing for saddles for the dray horses, now he found himself he'd packed the dogs' armour – just in case. Oh, and a company of Guard would be nice too.
SHOCK!
White hide. Blue eyes. Blood and rage.
Now!
The horse squealed in surprise as Kyminn dug his heels into her sides, turning her head towards the crossing, to where five men were turning their attention from the road in front of them to the road behind, where a Companion forded the stream and felt the first crossbow bolt enter her neck.
Kyminn gave a mental shout and the dogs tore through the trees, surging with unerring precision towards where men lay in wait. Cydris squeezed his waist in warning and he drew the horse up, just long enough for her to drop off where she could slip into the cover of the trees.
Gaven's horse wasn't a war horse. She wasn't trained in any of the maneuvers and had never faced the noise and flash of battle. It didn't matter. Kyminn had trained dozens of horses in those same maneuvers. Mind to mind, he overrode his mount's instinct and fear, driving her into the clash. When the man rose up before her, his mouth agape at the thunder behind him, Kyminn took control, bringing the mare up on her hind legs and lashing out, one foot after another. He felt her pain and heard her cry at the slash on her leg but ignored it. A crow hop and another foreleg lashed out. The man went down and Kyminn let the horse drop to all fours.
Not staying to see if the man was dead, Kyminn pushed the horse onward.
The Companion was surging out of the stream, blood flowing freely from the wound in her neck while the dilute red painted her chest with pink. The white tower of rage leapt forward, twisting to avoid the bolts hissing around her. Two men rose from behind one of the boulders and pulled back on their bowstrings. One of the arrows skittered wildly off the rocky ground as the man flinched to avoid Cydris's arrow. The other was more steady in his aim but still just missed the charging Companion.
Kyminn threw power into his control over his own horse, blocking the horse's pain as he pounded towards the two bowmen.
An indistinct shout went up behind him and he twisted in the saddle as the brown farm horse galloped towards the battling men. With his energies focused on the battle in front of him, Kyminn had released his hold on the farmer's horse and the boy, rather than turning aside, had spurred his horse towards the clash of arms. Kyminn couldn't control both his horse and the brown. With a grunt and a pull, he tried to turn his animal, to get between the men and their target.
He had succeeded in turning his horse when he found himself shouldered aside by a white shape. Off balance from the shove, Kyminn reeled in the saddle when he felt the sword cut deep into the farm horse's neck, felt the horse begin to fall.
Kyminn flung energy into his shields, trying to retain coherent thought for the moments it took for the horse to die. As the animal collapsed, the Companion launched herself, vaulting over the granite barrier and, somehow, using it to push herself beyond her foes.
It wasn't an aimed blow so much as it was a vain slash at the white form overhead. It nearly missed.
Nearly.
Nearly is not 'completely'.
It did completely miss her belly by a substantial margin.
It did miss her inner thigh, although by a much smaller margin.
It did not miss her hind leg. Worse still, it did not miss the tendon, that critical strand that tells one's limb to move just so.
When she landed, it was on three legs, for the fourth would not hold her weight, would not answer to her will, no matter how prodigious. And fast as a Companion is, even on three legs, she was not fast enough.
So the boy died.
Trapped under his fallen horse, he was easy prey for the man with his ugly little sword.
Silver, then red. Then red again as two snarling shapes tore and snapped.
The Companion's shriek of rage was deafening. She pivoted, somehow, on her front legs and kicked out at the men who had struck her. One of them she missed. The other was mashed against the rock with a sound something between a pop, a crack and a smear. It turns out that smear has a distinct sound to it. The second man swung at the Companion, slashing her along the ribs. Any wonder he might have felt at why such a blow had not turned the 'horse' aside was forever driven from his mind by two silver hooves entering it.
It had happened so quickly that Kyminn was still setting his horse on her new heading. He looked around frantically, looking for threats. The two formerly human piles of pulp receiving the attentions of the Companion were a threat only if such things made you queasy.
The man who had slaughtered the boy was dead, collapsed beneath a too-still bundle of dark fur. Kyminn wrenched his mind away from the sight. He would grieve later.
The man Kyminn had trampled was also dead, killed in the first rush. The remaining foe had bled out, skewered by one of Cydris's arrows and rent by the dogs. It was impossible to tell which had killed him and totally irrelevant.
The Companion was silent now, blood running from her wounds as she stood, shaking. Kyminn didn't need to check the boy. It was clear from the Companion's reaction that he was dead. It was equally clear that it was not her Chosen who had died. It was, instead, a 'might have been' and he wished for her sake that she had the power to weep.
Kyminn drew up beside her, sliding out of the saddle. "Lady…I'm sorry. Please, let me help you."
The Companion drew her head up and took a half-step backwards.
Kyminn blinked. "You cannot return to Haven like that. You will be crippled! My name is Kyminn Danner. I am a Healer of Companions. Please, let me help you!" He felt pretentious, giving himself that title, but it was all that came to mind to explain himself to her.
Another half step back. The Companion tossed her head, pointing. She stamped her foot for emphasis.
Puzzled and uneasy, Kyminn looked in the direction the Companion was pointing. There was nothing there. There was only the treeline, near where he'd left…
CYDRIS!
It took him far longer than it should have for him to climb back into the saddle. Later, he would swear that something gave him a push. The horse balked at Kyminn's urgings but again, he overrode her, blocking her pain and fear.
"Cydris!" He crashed through the trees, fearful of trampling her, fearful of silence.
"Here." There was a reassuring strength in her voice that made him want to sob with relief.
She was lying on her side, twisted oddly in the brush and he nearly fell as he dropped from the saddle beside her.
"Don't touch!" It was a whip crack. Her fists were jammed against her thigh, white with effort as dark red arterial blood oozed out of the deep wound in her leg.
Replacing her hands with a tourniquet was easy. It was also a short-term answer. Left on, the tourniquet would cause the limb to die. Remove it and Cydris would bleed out within moments.
Getting Cydris onto the horse was out of the question, nor could he carry her. Dragging her on a stretcher was not only likely to kill her, the brush was far too thick.
"My love…" Kyminn was examining and rejecting ideas almost as quickly as they came up.
"Kyminn." Then again. "Kyminn!"
He focused his attention on her again.
"You need to get Gaven." She was firm.
"Gaven? He's with the children." Who were safe now, he realized.
"Yes. And he has a Healing Gift."
"Barely emerged!" he protested. "And untrained!"
"But you're not. You will lend him strength while I govern the flow of his Gift. I'll make sure we don't burn him out. All he has to do is seal one blood vessel. You will do the rest."
He had a hundred reasons to protest. Gaven's Gift was still unstable. Gaven had never Healed anything before. Cydris might die.
He had one reason to agree.
Cydris would die.
"I don't want…." He wasn't sure what it was he didn't want. He didn't want her to be injured. He didn't want to leave her. He didn't want her to leave him.
"I know. Go anyway." She gave him a little push. "And maybe you should hurry." The smile that went with it was wobbly.
He paused only long enough to seal (seal, not heal) his horse's painful gash. Then he blocked her pain and turned her weary head back towards where he'd left the children. He just hoped there was time.