Retreat

When he woke Demetrius stretched and moaned with pain. He felt like he had been thrown a dozen times from a dozen horses, it took him a few minutes to orient himself to his surroundings. He looked all around the cabin, dim sunlight shone through a tiny window near the roof, leaving the small space in shadow. He didn’t hear or see Master Bertrand. There was a table with one chair, there was a large low shelf with a mat on it. Demetrius shook his head, that was the bed. It didn’t look any more inviting than the cold, hard, dirt floor. There was a tiny fireplace and a box of kindling next to several pieces of firewood, a few shelves with tins on the opposite side of the room. The entire space was smaller than his dressing room at home. “I could hold my arms out in the center and take one step either direction and touch the wall.” His voice echoed in the silence.

Demetrius pulled himself to his feet, picked up his canteen and went in search of water. He found the well easy enough, someone had pulled the vines away from the stone cover. “Good there is a pump with this one” he reached for the pump handle and saw a figure slumped on the ground. He bent and pushed Master Bertrand onto his back. The larger man let out a moan. Demetrius hurriedly pumped some water and splashed the cool liquid onto his pale, hot face. The older man attempted to open his eyes and speak but the struggle left him winded and he drifted into unconsciousness.

Demetrius shook the older man “Wake up, wake up! you can’t die on me!” He turned and ran back into the cabin, looked around frantically then ran back out. He peered intently into the woods in all directions, ran down the almost hidden path, then back to the well. He bent over the older man and straightened out his legs and arms, making him look more comfortable. He stared at the pale face and tried to remember what was done for him when he had a fever. “I know” he pulled a knife from his boot and cut a strip off the cloth he had wrapped around his waist, dampened it with cool water and laid it on his forehead. “I need to move you.”

“Maybe I can help”

Demetrius jumped to his feet, whirled around, and caught himself just before he threw his canteen at the large golden squirrel. “You have HELPED enough, GET AWAY”

“I am sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you.” Cyrus landed at Demetrius’s feet and bowed. Demetrius could see that his tail was shaved.

“You followed us all the way out here to apologize?”

“Yes, but that’s not all. I have been sent with a message for you and Master Bertrand. The Red army has sent scouts out after you and some of them have blood hounds. A group of pole cats have been sent to throw them off your scent and the horse has been encouraged to blaze as trail in another direction. Those are temporary delays. You will need to move on tonight or sunrise at the latest.”

“We can’t leave, Master Bertrand is sick; and why should I believe you. you tricked me before.”

“I admit to taking advantage of your youth and desire for attention, I apologize. The great Lizard has taken my loot or um, your things from me and shaved my tail as punishment.”

A clap of thunder broke the silence and the sky turned dark. Master Bertrand moaned, Demetrius grabbed his mentor under the arms and started dragging him toward the cabin. He tripped and fell on his back, his left leg twisted under him, pain shot through his leg and his back. He ignored it, he started to call for a footman, his head was spinning. He looked at Cyrus, “any Ideas?”

“I think I can find a couple of trolls.

“Trolls! Are you crazy?” Demetrius scrambled to his feet. “Of course he’s crazy.” He muttered as he watched the hairless golden tail disappear into the trees. He knelt next to the man that was the last link to life. He was shaking as he bathed his face with cool water. He couldn’t stay still long, he pumped water until he had filled every canteen, bucket and pot that he could find. He paced around the small clearing, always coming back to Master Bertrand’s side. He hoped, he prayed, he worried. He wondered if his parents and sister got away. He wondered about Alfie. Most of all he wondered if he would survive to find them again.

Cold raindrops pelted his face; he ran into the cabin and grabbed a cloak off the floor and hurried to spread it over the shivering form on the ground. “I’m sorry I can’t get you in the cabin. . . or maybe I can.” Demetrius rolled him on to the cloak then pulled it toward the cabin. The rain was coming down harder now. Master Bertrand coughed his breaths coming in shallow rattles. Demetrius tried to speed up and tripped. He slowed in an effort not to fall again. He was struggling to get the unconscious form through the doorway when he saw two stooped forms coming out of the trees. For a second or two all he felt was pure terror, then Cyrus spoke.

“It’s OK, these are friendlies” The two trolls nodded, when they stood upright, they were slightly shorter than Demetrius but very muscular.

Demetrius was used to giving orders, feeling intimidated was a new. “C c. .c can you help me?” I sound like a small child and I don’t even care. He stepped back and the trolls pick up Master Bertrand between them and had him on the shelf bed in no time. Then they disappeared closing the door behind them. Demetrius shivered in his wet clothes. He looked around for help, he felt very alone it was up to him, he had to get Master Bertrand out of his wet things. Demetrius struggled to get the teacher out of his garments, fortunately, peddlers and tramps wore simple clothes. He covered the man with the dry cloak and turned to build a fire. He hunted for matches and not finding any in the cupboard he searched the pockets of the packs, he found a flint and after several attempts he got a fire going. He pulled off his wet clothes now covered with mud, ashes and soot. He shook his belt out on the table, he would count his coins later. He had to find something to make into soup, and the trolls would need something for their troubles. “I wonder what they will asked for, and why they left without demanding something.” he shrugged and opened the packs one held another set of “peddler rags” and thimbles, needles, combs, fishing hooks, fishing line, and other things to trade. “He’s turning into a peddler.” another pack thick fur lined breeches and tunic, with and ice ax and snow boots. “wow” the last pack contained lighter weight homespun breeches and a short, short sleeved tunic. These Demetrius pulled on, “what does all this mean?” The sick man stirred and coughed Demetrius hurried over to him and helped him sit up. He opened his eyes and stared into the room, without focusing on anything. “let me get you some water” Demetrius held a cup of water to the man’s lips. He managed a few swallows then seemed to focus on Demetrius’s face briefly then relaxed back on to Demetrius’s arm. His skin didn’t seem to feel as hot, but he wasn’t sure if it were true or wishful thinking. His breathing seemed to ease some so Demetrius turned to spread their wet clothes to dry, and hunt for food. The rain continued to pour down, he sorted his coins and stacked them in three stacks, thinking, a few days ago I could get whatever I wanted to eat simply by asking, now I have no idea what to do. I can forage but not in pouring rain, and I’ve always had someone there to keep me out of bad things, now there is no one. I might just starve and Master Bertrand will die of fever. He sat there staring at the coins and listening to the storm and Master Bertrand’s breathing. At least his breathing is more normal. His stomach rumbling filled the whole cabin and echoed around the room. He had to find food. He took down the tins from the shelf and opened them. He found tea leaves in one and some dried vegetables in another. He placed a pot or water near the fire and added a handful of the vegetables. He paced the small space, walking back and forth from the bed, to the fire to the door, to the table, to the fire , to the bed, to the table. Master Bertrand didn’t move, the rain didn’t stop, he wondered how long the small stack of wood would last. He stirred the soup. The smell of food mingled with the smells of drying cloth and leather. The cabin was getting hot. The door opened and a short round troll woman with a basket came in, ignoring Demetrius she walked straight to the sick man on the bed. She pulled the heavy cloak back and lay something on his bare chest. Demetrius stared at her then found his voice, “what are you doing?” He tried to sound like he was in charge but knew he didn’t. She didn’t answer but dug around in her basket she pulled out a vial and poured some evil smelling liquid on the man’s lips. “Hey, What it that?” Demetrius yelled, and pushed his way between the woman and his friend. “who are you and what did you give him?”

The woman looked up at him, and stated calmly, “A Mage never shares her secrets, I believe he will live now.” Demetrius backed away and stood shaking by the fireplace. He had never met a Mage but had read enough stories to know that you didn’t cross one.

The sick man coughed and struggled to get his feet over the side of the bed. The short woman helped him set up and held a cloth while he coughed up some nasty green goo. When he finished she folded the cloth around the mess and tossed it to the back of the fire, then threw a handful of some dried herbs after it. The air in the cabin suddenly felt light, fresh and sweet. Demetrius stared, “I thought Mages were taller.” His face flushed deep red, “I mean, thank you, What do we owe you? um . . are you. . ”

The woman’s laughter filled the room, “just feed your friend, I will take some of these coins and bring you back some bread and meat.” She swept some coins from the table into her basket and left. Demetrius snorted at her retreating back. Without doing a complete count he was sure that the amount she took would feed a whole village for days. He held a cup of the soup out to Master Bertrand. His hands shook slightly when he took it but he was able to drink it himself.

“Where did you find her?”

“She found me, Cyrus followed us and went after some trolls to get you into the cabin. You fell out by the well, then it started raining.” Demetrius sat heavily in the chair he felt old and very young at the same time. “Cyrus says we are being followed by Red soldiers with blood hounds, and we need to leave tonight.”

“I see you have opened the packs. You are wearing fisherman clothes. Is that where you have chosen to go?”

“What do you mean? It was too warm to put on the furs, my clothes were wet.”

Demetrius looked at the packs on the floor and the clothes spread all around and horror grew in him as he realized, he wasn’t going back home, they planned on sending him away before the red army attacked. He looked around wildly, He didn’t want to wear these rough clothes, he wanted to go home. He took a deep breath and met the older man’s intent gaze, “I don’t know.”

“You will have to decide soon.”

Demetrius put his bowl of soup on the table, he wasn’t hungry anymore. He went to the door and opened it. The rain had stopped, water ran like a small river down the path that they had climbed the night before. Perhaps the storm and mud would slow the soldiers down. I would certainly wash away some of their scent. He sighed and went back inside.

“I don’t like the deep cold or the intense heat but I think I can handle the heat better, I’ll go fishing.”

Demetrius felt better, now he had a focus. He still didn’t know the details but a plan to get to the coast was forming. He dug into the packs and looking for a map, or instructions, or something. “Is there a map?”

“No, I was supposed to take you to the caravan circus, then you would join with the family you chose. With Red Kingdom soldiers in the area, you should find another way.”

“Find another way! How am I supposed to do that? I’ve not had the chance to travel the kingdom. How. . . who. . .”

“The sickness weakened your body, not your mind, you’ll figure something out.”

Master Bertrand lay back and slowly pulled his feet up in the bed, and fell asleep.