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    David McLeod
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Arthur in Eblis - 10. Chapter 10: Haley's Story--The Rising Road to Alborg

Chapter 10: Haley’s Story—The Rising Road to Alborg

 

Three times this day Jason sensed other travelers approaching. Three times, they had hurried from the road, sweeping away their tracks as best they could.

“When you know someone’s coming,” Troy whispered to Jason as they lay in deep grass, watching a caravan passing. “Is that part of your magic?” Below them, barely visible, wagons pulled by oxen flanked by riders on horses passed.

“I think so,” Jason said. “When I’m close, I can see more; when I’m far away, I just know that there’s something. Wait! Look! Quiet!”

Traveling with the caravan was a flatbed wagon with a raised seat. On the seat was a rust-robed man. Beside him was the driver, a soldier. Lying in the bed of the wagon were two, perhaps three figures, boys or tweens, they could not tell; captives, they were certain. Two more soldiers sat at the back of the wagon, their legs dangling.

“No, Troy, we couldn’t have done anything. There were three soldiers and a mage, plus the rest of the caravan,” Seth said.

“The best thing we can do,” Jason said, “is to survive, ourselves. We need to learn more about our magic, and we need to find others like us. Then, perhaps, we can do something about these Red-Robes!”

The boys nodded soberly, and a quest that had been no more than an inchoate thought in their minds began to take shape.

*****

The boys pushed west. Troy was sorely pressed to keep up. They dared not make a fire, and meals were reduced to berries snatched in passing, and the remains of the pemmican and flat bread taken from the soldiers’ packs. That ran out on the morning they found the road to the north.

“There’s the road,” Seth pointed as he spoke. “Should we rest, now, or later?” Unconsciously, Seth and Troy had both begun to depend on Jason for leadership.

“Let’s get a little way up the road,” Jason said. “There’s no water, here, and it looks as if the vegetation’s a little thicker as the road rises. See that dark line? That’s probably a stream. We’ll find better shelter and perhaps some food and water, there.”

The other boys nodded. Haley lent his shoulder to Troy, proud that he was able to help the younger boy despite his own infirmity. Haley’s leg didn’t bother him any more, except when he was very tired. The boy looked at the mountain rising before them. I think I’m going to be tired every day, he thought.

*****

After rising gently for several miles, the road crossed a broad stream on a stone bridge. After the bridge, the road leveled off. Jason led the band through a line of trees and into a small meadow on the bank of the stream. “We’ll camp here, tonight. It’s getting dark earlier each day.”

That the sun was moving toward winter solstice was not lost on the boys. They’d have to find a safe haven soon, or they would die in the bitter cold that followed that dread day.

Jason and Haley had become quite adept at finding edible tubers and corms. Troy was set to work fishing, and Seth gathered wood. “We’ll have a fire, tonight,” Jason said. “The wind is blowing up the slope, which will disperse the smoke, and the light will be masked by the pine trees.”

Troy had caught a fish, a largish one, without scales but with wicked looking spines. “It’s a bottom feeder,” Haley said when he saw it. “There used to be a lot in the bayou where we lived. Gram called them old men of the bayou. Watch out for the spines . . . here, let me . . .”

The fish, wrapped in wet leaves and laid on the coals that covered the tubers Jason and Haley had found, made a meal better than they’d had since they came together. After, Seth banked the fire, and they snuggled into their blankets as close to the fire pit as possible.

*****

“We’re going to be in the sky!” Troy exclaimed breathlessly as the boys continued to ascend the road. The slope was gentle, but the road was long as it hugged the side of the hill in switchbacks and curves. They met no other travelers. The nights grew colder, and the fine dinner they’d had the first night on this road was a dim memory. Hunger gnawed at their stomachs. Troy’s gums began to bleed and he complained that his teeth hurt.

“I don’t know if I can heal your mouth,” Haley said, hesitantly. “Should we use magic?” he asked, looking at Jason.

“Troy, I’m sorry, but we shouldn’t use magic, yet,” Jason said, looking to the others for support.

Seth nodded, “He’s right, Troy. We have to get further away.”

The boys saved the softest parts of the tubers for Troy, but after two days, one of his teeth fell out.

*****

Troy was delirious, and although Jason had agreed that Haley could try to heal him, the boy didn’t know what to do. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him!” Haley cried.

“He said he saw magic coming from your hands, and it felt warm,” Seth reminded Haley. “Try that.”

Haley gently rested his hands on Troy’s face, and willed magic to heal the boy. “Nothing, I don’t think,” he said after several minutes. “I can’t see if there was any magic.”

“We don’t stop until we get Troy to a place where he can be healed,” Jason said. “Seth and I will carry him. Haley, you’ll find food . . . berries, whatever . . . as we walk. And water. We’ll need water.”

*****

Haley splashed water on Seth’s face. He’d had to break a skim of ice on the little stream in order to fill the canteens they’d taken from the soldiers. Seth gasped, and began walking again. Troy, who lay across Seth’s shoulder, was mercifully unconscious.

*****

“What’s that?” Haley said, just as Jason held up his hand.

“There are people ahead,” Jason said. “What do you see, Haley?”

“Not see, hear,” Haley said. “Listen.”

From beyond the trees that screened the road came a rhythmic squeaking. Creak-pause-creak, creak-long pause. The pattern was repeated.

“Come on,” Jason said. “As long as it’s not Red-Robes, we’ll take our chances.” And even if it is, he thought, we must seek help or Troy will die.

*****

The boys rounded a switchback. Before them lay a mountain meadow. Next to the road was a mill. The constant up-slope wind pushed the vanes, which turned the millstones. The creak-pause-creak, creak-long pause they’d heard was the mechanism that sent the wind power to the millstone. Abutting the tower of the mill was a strong, stone house.

Across the meadow, nestled against the hill, was a village. Smoke rose from several chimneys. The meadow, itself, had been turned in preparation for next spring’s planting. Beside the mill house, a garden plot showed the dark green leaves of mustard and other winter plants.

The boys had been seen, and two men, three tweens, and two boys were waiting in front of the mill. One of the men said something to the two tweens, who hurried toward the boys.

“Is he hurt?” One said, indicating Troy who was now being carried by Jason.

“Starving, and sick,” Jason said. “Please help us.”

The tweens exchanged looks. The one who had not spoken nodded.

“Let me carry him,” the first said, easing Troy from Jason’s shoulders and into his own arms.

“Come,” said the second. “Into the mill house. Quickly.”

*****

The second tween began giving orders as soon as he was in earshot of those waiting at the mill. “Dennis, go to Mother. Bring a pot of broth as quickly as it can be prepared. Arty, go to the cellar. Bring a jug of apple juice—not the cider—, quickly.” The two boys ran into the mill house. The tween carried Troy through the door. Jason—taking the boy’s words to be a guarantee of safety, and believing there to be no other options—followed. His companions and the second tween came behind him.

*****

Troy lay on a low trundle in a small room next to the bath. The second tween knelt beside the boy, and put his hands on Troy’s head. “Scurvy!” he said. “What have you boys been eating? Never mind. We’ll fix that.”

Things became a bit confused. The two boys, Dennis and Arty, Jason remembered, entered the room bearing a kettle and a jug. Another boy, one Jason hadn’t seen before, accompanied them, carrying a basket of bread. The tween (Tyler the boy called him, Jason thought) sent one back for berry juice. Dennis and Arty served Jason, Seth, and Haley while Tyler managed to waken Troy at least to the point that the boy could sip some cider and, when it came, the berry juice.

“All of you need some of this, too,” Tyler said, indicating the tart juice. “Your body needs more than . . . what have you been eating, anyway?”

“Blue root and onions, mostly,” Jason said. “Some berries.”

“Let me see your teeth,” the tween commanded. “They’re okay. Did this boy eat the berries, too?”

“No,” Seth said. “He said he didn’t like them.”

“Well, that explains it,” Tyler said. “You others got enough nutrition from the berries. He didn’t. There’s something in the berries that your body needs. If you don’t get it, your gums bleed, you get weak, and your teeth fall out. In time, if you don’t get proper food, you die.”

*****

The boys who had brought the food had left. Jason and his companions were alone with Tyler. Troy and Haley were asleep. Seth was nodding off in the corner. Jason desperately wanted to sleep, but first:

“Tyler,” Jason began softly, “there’s something you must know. You have saved our lives and we would not repay you by bringing danger to you. We are being hunted by soldiers led by men in red robes. They would probably kill anyone who they thought had helped us. We must leave . . .”

Tyler smiled as he interrupted Jason. “We knew . . . I knew, anyway . . . that you were magic users,” he said, ignoring Jason’s startled look. “Given your appearance and condition, it was easy to discern that you were running from them. Oh, yes, we know them. My grandfather—he was one of the men you saw at the mill—knows who you are, too. He’s already alerted the watch.”

“The watch?” Jason asked.

“We keep a watch on the road. We knew you four were coming, but we didn’t know how badly off you were, or we’d have come to meet you. I’m sorry for that, but our signals from the watch don’t include a signal meaning in need of assistance. That will be changed.

“In any case, we would know if the Red-Robes approached, and would hide you in—” Tyler stopped talking abruptly, but Jason was too tired to notice.

“Sleep, now,” Tyler said. “Someone will be outside the door if you need anything.”

Tyler woke the boys the next morning. Dennis and the third boy, called Johan, followed him with bowls of porridge and mugs of hot tea, liberally reinforced with tart juice.

“The watch has reported that there are no travelers on the Great Mountain Road or on the road to the village,” Tyler said. Seeing the boys’ puzzled looks, he added, “the main road, the one that runs west and east? It’s called the Northern Mountain Road, or the Great Mountain Road. I told Jason after you were asleep last night that we keep a watch on the road to warn us of danger.”

“The watch saw us, but didn’t know we needed help,” Jason hastened to add.

“Now,” Dennis said, “Tyler said you were to bathe, and I was to clean your clothes. And blankets, if you will—just bring everything.”

Copyright © 2013 David McLeod; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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