22nd Day of Goodmonth, 565 CY
The Brass Dragon Inn, Furyondy
The patrons on the floor of the common room of The Brass Dragon shrieked in fear as a figure clad only in a nightrobe came thundering down the stairs from above.
A figure brandishing a flaming sword.
Ignoring them, Sir Dorbin tore open the front door of the inn and ran outside. To his right, he could see Monsrek stagger, still-half-asleep, out of Flond's shelterdome.
"Stay inside! Prep up!" the cleric yelled over his shoulder at the grey dome. "I'll shout if I need you!"
"You're already shouting!" came Flond's voice from within.
Monsrek rolled his eyes and ran as best he could towards Sir Dorbin, who was heading towards the Bigfellow cabin.
"Fee Hal!" Monsrek shouted at the squire who was just now exiting the inn, still struggling to get one boot on. "Go over to the stable and quiet things down there!"
Fee Hal continued to curse at his stubborn boot, but nodded curtly to the priest, who dashed off as fast as he could.
As Sir Dorbin pulled up to the cabin, the thirteen year-old serving girl was already banging on the door.
"Mrs. Bigfellow! Mrs. Bigfellow! Can you open the door? It's locked!"
Only moans and Grock's barking came from within.
"Stand back!" Dorbin gestured to the girl. "I'll handle this. Stay outside- we may need you!"
The girl's eyes widened with fear at the knight's blade, but then turned to his face with a beseeching look. "Please save her, Sir Dorbin! She saved Jack's life. She-"
Monsrek came up. "Locked?" he asked, ignoring the child.
Dorbin nodded. "Does Flond have a knock?"
The priest shook his head."No."
"All right then," the knight said grimly, sheathing Sear and grasping Monsrek by the shoulder. "We're teleporting in!"
The first thing Monsrek noticed as the duo materialized just inside the front door was the blood.
And Caroline Bigfellow was lying in it.
Through the open front doorway of the bedroom, he could see the young woman curled up in a fetal position next to her bed. Blood was flowing from-
Monsrek abruptly spun around, grabbed Sir Dorbin and shoved him at the door.
"The key is hanging up on the wall there! Open the door and wait outside with the others!"
"What? Why-"
"Female matters, Dorbin; not for your courtly eyes! Have the serving girl get some cloths soaked in warm water- go!"
Sputtering in frustration, the knight fumbled with the keys, and eventually managed to open the door while Monsrek dashed into the bedroom.
Even from this position, the cleric could see that Caroline was bleeding from between her legs.
Monsrek knelt next to Caroline. Grock kept jumping on him.
"I know, boy, I know. Keep your paws off me- I'm going to help her, don't worry!"
Monsrek took hold of Caroline's shoulder and sent a healing prayer through her.
The priest frowned. There was some kind of resistance to the healing magic, but before he could analyze it, it broke, and the prayer flowed through.
He gave Caroline another one, just to be sure. The bleeding stopped, but Lady Bigfellow was still writhing in pain.
Something was still very wrong.
Monsrek took a deep breath. This really was not his specialty. He was a priest of Trithereon the Summoner, not Estanna of the Hearth. He was more comfortable shedding blood than saving it but being with Dorbin as long as he had had given the priest at least rudimentary skills in the healing arts.
There's always one more injury than you have prayers, Monsrek thought to himself as he gently began to maneuver Caroline into a sitting position.
But Caroline grabbed Monsrek's hands and threw them off her. Her eyes were still closed; her face contorted with pain.
"Lady Bigfellow, please! I'm trying to help, but I need your cooperation!"
Caroline abruptly stopped groaning. Her hazel eyes opened and slowly moved over to Monsrek's face. Her hands opened and closed randomly.
"Monsrek?" she asked in a small voice. "Is it really you?"
The priest smiled. "Yes, Caroline. It's me. I can heal you, but I need to know what happened, can you tell me-"
Caroline's eyes darted down the front of her robe, and then she took a deep breath and uttered a piercing scream.
"Monsrek! What the devil-"
Monsrek's right foot shot out just behind the door to the Bigfellow bedroom and with a kick slammed the door shut. "Stay outside, Dorbin!" he yelled over Caroline's continued wailing. He was seriously considering casting a spell on Lady Bigfellow to hold her motionless when Caroline grabbed the priest by his blue cassock.
"Save him, Monsrek! Please, save him!"
"Him? Who are you talking about, Caroline?"
But Lady Bigfellow's face suddenly contorted in agony again and she curled up on the floor again, her hands clutching her abdomen and her legs kicking and flailing. Monsrek took several sharp blows to his own shins as he bent over his patient.
Caroline was bleeding again, but it was darker; heavier. There was some kind of grey tissue that-
"What vileness is this?" muttered the priest to himself. He threw another healing spell, and the bleeding subsided again.
With trembling hands, Monsrek gingerly took the bottom edge of Caroline's robe and began to lift it up. "Please forgive me, Lady Bigfellow, but I must see what we are deal-"
The cleric's eyes widened in shock and he gasped.
He locked eyes with Caroline Bigfellow.
And finally understood.
They just stared at each other.
Every second, Monsrek's heart broke just a little more.
The cleric gently leaned forward to place his hands on Caroline's shoulders. The young woman, who was now sitting up, avoided his gaze and looked down at her bloody lap.
"Caroline," Monsrek began, groping for the right words, not even knowing if any existed. "Caroline, it was too early. The soul has not yet entered from beyond. This was only animate flesh. There is no one to save."
She continued to look down. Her voice was dull. "He was alive. I felt him. I could feel him every day."
Monsrek sighed. He didn't know how to explain this in a way that Caroline would understand. He was about to try again when she spoke.
"Argo didn't know."
She looked up at Monsrek.
"I was going to surprise him when they came back from The Pomarj."
The priest closed his eyes in grief. "I am so sorry, Caroline, but there is nothing I can do. There is nothing anyone can do."
When he opened his eyes again, Monsrek was surprised to feel a tear running down his cheek. Caroline's eyes, while bloodshot, remained dry.
"He mustn't know, Monsrek. None of them must ever know."
The cleric raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain, Lady- I mean, Caroline? Argo is your husband, and he would give the world for you! I think you should-"
"Monsrek," Caroline interrupted, her voice still dull but steady, "if you do not swear to remain silent, I will kill myself."
They stared at each other again, but this time it was Monsrek who broke contact and looked away. He didn't think Caroline was in her right mind, but it was also the central tenet of the Summoner that people make their own decisions.
"Very well, Caroline," he sighed. "I will say nothing of this particular matter. But the fact remains that something terrible has happened to you, and that I cannot and will not ignore. I implore you, tell me what happened!"
Caroline Bigfellow was silent for a long time. She petted Grock without seeming to know he was there. She just sat on the floor in a pool of her own blood, her eyes growing duller with every passing moment.
Finally, she spoke.
"He dreamt about me."
The stables were finally quieting down.
Fee Hal rubbed his left shoulder again . Sequester had clipped it hard with a hoof as the squire was struggling to calm the pegasus. As near as the teenager could determine from the young stableboy, Perlial and White Lightning had gone berserk, presumably upon hearing Caroline scream from her cabin. This had ignited all the other steeds present, but it was just as well they had, Fee Hal mused, for it was that sound that had awoken most of the current residents of the Brass Dragon. Only when the staff had gone around the back to investigate had they heard Caroline Bigfellow's cries for help.
Now the squire watched as his master slowly trudged from the Bigfellow cabin towards him. The serving girl had gone inside with some bar towels and a bucket of water.
The knight acknowledged his squire's questioning look with a weary nod.
"She'll live, although we're not quite sure what happened. Apparently, she had some kind of terrible nightmare and had fallen out of bed."
Fee Hal frowned. "Did she hurt herself that badly falling out of bed that she would scream so?"
Dorbin shook his head. "No. There's more to it than that. Dark magic, I'd guess, but her injuries were," he lowered his voice and inclined his head towards Fee Hal, "of a womanly nature."
"Ah," Fee Hal nodded in partial understanding, although in truth he felt a desire to be inside the cabin now with Monsrek, tending to Caroline himself.
"Do you wish to suit up, Sir Dorbin?" he added after watching his master stare silently at the cabin for several moments.
The knight shook his head. "Not yet," he replied distractedly, then muttered as much to himself as to Fee Hal.
"Monsrek's being secretive again. He either knows or is learning more than he'll share, I'm sure."
His deep blue eyes gazed thoughtfully at something Fee Hal couldn't see.
Then he turned and walked inside the stables.
The Brass Dragon's eleven year-old stable boy Noah was not exceptionally strong for his age, but he had a way with horses. All the other steeds had with much coaxing, attention and treats, been returned to a quiet if nervous state. Now the lad was trying to tend to White Lightning and Perlial.
Both horses were standing in their stall, not moving but trembling fiercely. The steeds' initial cries had contained no intelligible words as far as the boy could tell, but now they were speaking, albeit in very low tones, but it was just snatches of phrases, repeated over and over again. Neither horse would respond to him in any way, despite all his pleading.
Standing there in helpless anxiety, the stable boy whirled at the large shadow behind him, then relaxed as he watched Sir Dorbin take in the scene.
The knight frowned.
"Why won't they open their eyes?"
White Lightning kept her eyes closed as tightly as possible. Tears ran very slowly but steadily from them. She showed no reaction when Dorbin gently laid his hand upon her, but when the knight moved to wipe her eyes clear, the animal shrieked and backed off.
"Please, Sir Dorbin!" the youth said, torn between anger and the respect due any knight. "You'll only stir up the others again! Please let me see what I can do."
Sir Dorbin clenched his fists in frustration for a moment, but then nodded.
"Of course, boy."
Relieved, Noah turned back to his charges. He stroked White Lightning and uttered soothing phrases into her ears. The horse did not open her eyes, but her rapid breathing slowed somewhat. She continued to repeat the same words.
"Leave us alone… leave us alone…"
The stableboy looked over at Sir Dorbin while he made a few brief passes over White Lightning's coat with a brush. "I don't think she means us, Sir."
Sir Dorbin folded his arms. "She doesn't, boy. Of that one thing, I'm certain."
Even with her eyes closed and tearing as well, Perlial seemed to sense that her closest companion had moved away from her, so the grey mare took several tentative steps towards her. The stable boy maneuvered himself so he was between the two animals and placed one hand on each of their flanks so they would hopefully realize he was there and not crush him.
They stopped. The boy had to stand on his toes to wrap his arms even partially around the neck of each animal. He scratched where he could reach and continued to talk gently to them.
Perlial's words were different.
"Not let you see… not let you see…"
Abruptly, both horses heads sank down, as if they had fallen asleep. They hadn't, but their breathing slowed down to a regular rhythm. It was hard for Sir Dorbin to see, but it appeared as if they had stopped crying as well, although their eyes remained tightly closed. Their muttered phrases grew quieter and quieter until the knight could no longer distinguish them.
The stable boy slowly scratched Perlial's ears and moved his hands down her face. She seemed to accept this, even leaning in a little closer to him.
The lad smiled at Sir Dorbin, who smiled back.
The youth dried the mare's tears as best he could and was about to turn back to White Lightning when he leaned in closer to Perlial and said, "Eh? What's that, girl?"
Sir Dorbin peered at them.
Noah moved his ear right up to Perlial's mouth. "What's that you're saying, Perlial? I can't quite make that out."
He listened for about thirty seconds, after which it was apparent that Perlial had stopped talking completely. The boy frowned and shook his head in confusion, and then glanced back at Sir Dorbin, who moved his gaze from Perlial's closed eyes to the youth's open ones.
"Who," the child asked, "is Kar-Vermin?"