Whisper of the Wilding Woods: Chapter 4

Fevers, fires, and fleeing into the night.

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Chapter 4

Aline did not know where she was, nor how she’d got there. Her vision blurred, blue-black whorls threatening to drag her back down into the morass of fevered delirium. Her clothing was damp and her throat raw and dry. A weight bore down on her. Fur tickled her nose. Cloth scratching her cheek. Someone had heaped blankets atop her, yet still she shivered violently. Excruciating pain emanated from her upper arm, so hot and sharp she feared someone had kindled a fire beneath her skin. Her fingers were numb and slow to react when she tried and failed to push herself upright. Strands of her hair were matted and clumped on her face. She used her good hand to wipe them away, then turned her head to get a better sense of her surroundings. Firelight flickered on rough wooden walls. She blinked away the accumulation of grime and tears, shadowy shapes gradually resolving into details. The room was small. A chair by the fire. A table with two stools. A large chest against the far wall. The bed beneath her was lumpy and hard, and upon using her strong hand to finally push herself upright, she saw it was covered in some kind of very large brown animal fur. The dark whorls returned, and Aline closed her eyes and breathed deeply until the lightheadedness subsided. Eyes open, she cast about for signs of life. Other than a pot hanging beside the fire, from which faint tendrils of steam floated toward the ceiling, the room was completely empty.

Wondering if perhaps she’d been left in some a stablehand’s quarters, Aline attempted to stand up. This proved too much for her in her weakened state, and she promptly sagged to her knees before sinking down to sit again. On the table was a clay jug she hoped might contain water, but it might as well have been miles away for her inability to reach it. She briefly considered crawling, but even the thought of putting pressure on her injured arm made her stomach turn.

“Hello?” she called out into the empty room. At least, that’s what she attempted to say. What actually emerged was more of a rasping cough.

If anyone had heard, they didn’t answer. A runty little cat squeezed beneath the crack in the front door, eyed her a moment, then left the way it had come. Aline was left alone to sit and stare at the fire, slowly piecing together the fragments of what had happened to her since her last real memory of sitting in the carriage with Lady Gerda. Oh, Goddess. Lady Gerda. Recollection flooded back, assaulting Aline all at once. Swords and arrows. Men and horses screaming. Lady Gerda cut down by brigands. Aline shuddered when she recalled the soldier who’d grabbed her by the hair. She touched her eye tentatively, discovering a swollen bruise that was tender to the touch. That certainly explained the residual bleariness in her vision.

But what had happened after that? She remembered the soldier who’d threatened her being taken in the eye with an arrow. Gruesome as the sight had been, she couldn’t find it in her heart to feel sorry for the man. Found herself hoping it had been a painful and prolonged death. After that, she remembered running until the world seemed to drop out beneath her. Then a boy. Where had the boy come from? Aline had been terrified she’d simply run from one deadly situation into another, but the boy had told her he was there to help. How he’d known to find her in those bushes was beyond her. She thanked the Goddess for bringing the boy to her. Even if he had been bossy and rude. Aline looked at her arm and remembered him cutting strips away from her dress after he’d made her trudge through the stream in her thin slippers. She’d been mortified at the time, but now she saw that even had he spared her dress, it was already ruined. Muddy and torn, it was quite thoroughly soaked with the same sweat she felt beading on her brow and upper lip. Not to mention the blood. Aline tried very hard to ignore the dark stains on her sleeve. Despite the warmth of the fire filling the small room, she was chilled to her bones. Her body hadn’t ached this badly since catching the summer fever several years earlier. Only this was worse. There was no Lady Gerda to look after her. No one to hum soothingly while mopping her brow with a cloth. No one to bring her sips of water and dab herb-infused honey on her tongue.

But she wasn’t alone, was she? Someone had tucked her beneath these blankets. Someone had lit the fire. Aline remembered almost nothing of their desperate march from the river. At one point the boy had set her down to talk to someone, but they’d left on their own again. Whatever had passed between then and now was lost to her. For all she knew, the boy had dumped her somewhere and run away. At least she was still dressed, her modesty mostly intact. She considered lying back down to sleep again, hoping that when she next awoke she might have the strength to rise and find something to drink. At the same time, she suspected sleeping wasn’t a good idea in her condition. Something she’d heard a physicker say once after Jurgen had fallen from his horse and impaled his thigh on a fallen branch. The sleep that beckoned now was one from which she might never awake.

Aline was just about to make another attempt at getting to her knees so that she might shuffle to the table for a sip of water, when the door crashed open, bringing with it a chill breeze. The boy from the woods hurried inside, then quickly shut the door behind him again.

“They’re in the village,” he said. “Who are you that these men are so intent on hunting you?”

He didn’t wait to hear an answer before grabbing a handful of arrows from a small barrel by the door, then shoving them into an empty quiver. He muttered to himself while shoving various items into a satchel. She tried to get his attention, tears running down her eyes in her frustration at being unable to make him stop and listen, but it was useless. He was so focused on his task he didn’t even look her way. It was only when he opened the chest and removed a bundle of white linen bandages that he seemed to remember her again.

“You must be thirsty.” The boy grabbed the water jug and brought it to her, holding it to her lips so that she might sip a little. “Not too much. Slowly.”

The water was cool and sweet. Aline sipped a little, then tilted her head in order to nudge the clay pot so the flow of water into her mouth was increased. At first, she gulped greedily, then she coughed and splashed water down her chin before the boy could pull the jug away. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then beckoned for more. “I’ll sip slowly this time.”

“We have to leave,” the boy said as he held the pot back up to her mouth. “I’d hoped to bring the healer to you, but the village is crawling with soldiers dressed like the one that hit you. Eventually, someone will tell them about this place. It’ll take them some time yet to make their way here, but we have to be long gone by then. Are you well enough to walk?”

Aline thought back to only moments earlier when she’d failed her attempt to stand up. “With help, maybe.”

“Whatever it takes.” The boy’s mouth was set in a tight frown as he helped her drink a little more. “I’ll give you something for the pain. Here, chew this.”

He handed her a piece of bark, and Aline eyed it doubtfully. Did he really expect her to chew on something he’d torn from a tree? She’d had elixirs and the like before, but this was absurd. It was tough and fibrous. How did he even expect her to bite through it?

“You don’t have to eat it,” he explained upon seeing her hesitation. “Just break off a piece and put it in your mouth. Suck on it until it’s soft, then grind it between your back teeth. It will help break the fever and ease the pain in your arm until we can do something about it. I’m afraid we don’t have time to re-bandage it now. We really must be going.”

The boy went back to the chest, dug through it a moment, then returned with a bundle of brown rags. He placed these next to Aline and then stepped back. “Put these clothes on. That silly dress won’t do if we’re to have any chance of losing those soldiers in the forest. The pants may be small, but it’s all I have to offer.”

Aline stared at him. Did he really expect her to wear those? They didn’t even look like clothing. More like bits of leftover fabric he’d dug from the midden. He had a point about the dress, it was quite thoroughly ruined and ill-suited for going back out into the wilderness. That didn’t mean Aline had to be happy about putting on his rags. And she certainly didn’t have to let the little pissant stare at her while she changed. Motioning for him to turn around, she broke off a small piece of the bark and put it in her mouth as she’d been told. It tasted fairly plain, with a slight hint of cinnamon. As a pleasing side effect, having the bark in her mouth prompted saliva to pool, easing her parched throat every time she swallowed. And it did help clear some of the fuzziness from her thoughts. It wasn’t easy pulling on the pants without being able to use both hands or stand up, but the bark gave her the strength to manage it without fainting from each spasm of pain that shot through her arm when she moved the wrong way. It was only when she considered the problem of pulling her dress up over her head that she realized the bandage on her wound had been put on over top of the dress sleeve, making it impossible for her to remove it even if she could manage on her own.

“Excuse me,” she said, coughing to get the boy’s attention. “It seems I will require some assistance after all.”

The boy turned around and stared at her uncomprehendingly before realizing what the issue was. His hand went to his waist and he had his knife out and was approaching her before she could ask what he intended. He moved quickly, coming around behind Aline to slash the fabric of her dress from behind, cutting it free from neckline all the way to the bottom hem. There were buttons he could have undone, but he ignored them completely in favor of cutting away a dress that easily cost more than every item in this little hut combined. When that was done, he cut carefully at the sleeve, separating it from the dress above the bandaged area. Carefully keeping his line of sight above Aline’s shoulders, he helped her remove her good arm first, then cut away the mutilated remains of the dress in order to pull it free of her injured arm. An awkward length of sleeve remained below the bandage, but he ignored this while helping Aline into the rough spun shirt. It was a laborious process, and Aline caught the boy looking down several times to ensure he wasn’t doing any damage by adjusting the sleeve over her injured arm. Even covered as she was by her smallclothes, Aline felt humiliated and exposed. This was not how she’d imagined the first time a boy would see her in this state of undress. And she certainly hadn’t pictured dressing in a shirt and pants that were decidedly too small for her.

“That will have to do for now,” the boy said after he’d helped her fasten his cloak back over her shoulders. “We’ll deal with the bandage later. Right now you need boots.”

It had been stuffy in the carriage, and after weeks of being locked away with no one but Lady Gerda for company, Aline had opted to forgo stockings in favor of bare legs beneath her dress. What had been far more comfortable in that situation was now an unpleasant oversight as she shoved her bare feet into cold leather boots that pinched her toes. She was about to ask if the boy had any hose, then stopped herself when she caught a flash of bare leg beneath the hem of his pants when he bent to help her lace her boots. How strange that peasant boys didn’t wear hose. Perhaps she could find some fabric with which to wrap her feet later.

“Where exactly are we going?” she asked.

“Into the woods,” the boy said. “We’ll camp and hide until it’s safe to return. Keep on the move. Make sure we’re not followed.”

“Camp.” She repeated. “In the woods.”

The boy stopped what he was doing to stare at her. His gaze drifted to the remains of her dress, then understanding dawned on his simple little face. “You’ve never slept beneath the stars before, have you?”

“Do I look like I’ve slept beneath the stars?” she fired back. “I may well be dying from this bloody gash in my arm, I’m ill with some sort of fever, and there are dangerous men who appear to want to kidnap me for reasons I can’t even begin to comprehend. I fail to see how running to hide in the trees and sleep in the mud is going to help my situation any.”

The boy shook his head and returned to packing. He didn’t bother looking at her when he asked, “Well what do you propose we do then?”

“Take me into town,” she said primly. “I shall have a word with the local regent, and then have them fetch me a physicker. Yes, I believe that will be the best way to sort this out.”

The boy folded the flap down on his satchel, then helped her with the borrowed cloak. “I don’t know what a physicker is,” he said as he tied the cloak at her throat, “but I can tell you we don’t have a local regent. Unless you mean Mayor Gabhann? Thought I doubt he’d do much about the dozen armed men strolling about Daurendale asking questions about you. I doubt anyone in town would stand against those soldiers, even if it was one of our own they were searching for. Nothing but farmers and trade folk around here.”

Of all the backwater villages to end up in. What had Berthold been thinking taking them along this route so far from civilization? Aline’s shoulders sagged. Berthold was dead too. Slain without even the chance to draw his sword. The man had been one of his father’s favorite guards, and now he was gone. It was difficult for Aline to criticize someone who’d died in her service. Whatever his flaws, and they were admittedly few, the man had done his best to accommodate Aline’s wishes while still remaining faithful to the promises he’d made her father. All he’d ever tried to do was keep her safe. Thinking now about that terrible moment after the men of her escort guard had been killed, she remembered hearing someone say the Magus wanted her alive. Whoever this Magus was, it was reasonable to assume he’d have sent men after her no matter which road they’d been traveling on. And if the roads were too busy, they’d have snatched her from an inn while she slept. They’d known exactly which carriage she was traveling in, and they’d wasted no time in cutting down the men assigned to her protection. Perhaps the boy had a point about not going into the village to seek help.

“You should be well enough to stomach some soup,” the boy said, bringing her back from her thoughts. He was crouched by the fire, ladling the contents of the steaming pot by the fire into two wooden bowls. He set these on the table and beckoned for her to join him. “We don’t have time to linger. We’re leaving as soon as we eat.”

Aline shuffled numbly to the table where she sank into a stool. The taste and sensation of chewing the bark had gone from unpleasant to mildly enjoyable, and she plucked the old piece out of her mouth and set it on the table before breaking off another piece and tucking it into her cheek. Her tongue had gone a little numb, making the soup taste even blander than it looked, but the warmth of it felt good in her stomach. Watching the fire flicker and pop, she sipped her soup and began to feel more and more like maybe a nice walk in the forest was just what she needed. Some time among the trees. To feel the dirt between her toes, and to lay her head on a pillow of moss. She would drink morning dewdrops from the leaves. The forest would be peaceful and calm. There would be no men with swords there. Aline’s eyelids drooped. The urge to sleep tugged at her. As nice as the forest would be, it was so far away. Not like the bed just a few short steps away. She could practically fall out of her stool and roll to the luxuriously soft fur. It was so supple and warm. Unlike the itchy clothing, bristling against her skin. She would shed them, then lay naked atop the fur blanket, basking in the honeysuckle warmth of the fire.

“What are you doing?” the boy asked, mouth hanging open in confusion.

What a silly boy. Aline followed his gaze down to her stomach, where she’d lifted her shirt and was rubbing the soft skin of her belly with her fingertips. She couldn’t tell where her fingers ended and her stomach began. It had grown so warm in the little cabin, and her clothes were so restrictive. She wanted to shed them, but something about the boy’s presence made it feel wrong to do so. Somehow scandalous, though she couldn’t for the life of her remember why. Everyone had bodies. They were Goddess-given. Each one unique and wonderful in its own right. Or so she imagined. She’d never seen another naked body save her own. Perhaps she should invite the boy to strip down with her. Wasn’t that what the common folk did? Aline had once heard it whispered that they fornicated like rabbits, often piling into a writhing mass of rutting humanity. Odd how she’d once found the concept abjectly revolting. It now held a certain appeal. Hands and lips and Goddess knew what else caressing her body.

“Gods damn it,” the boy said, crossing the distance to her in a few quick steps. He knelt down and cupped her chin, then used finger and thumb to pry open one of her eyelids, letting her go completely when she burst into a fit of laughter.

The boy stared at her a moment, then looked at her bowl of partially eaten soup. “Tulum root in the soup,” he muttered to himself. “How stupid could I have been? Tulum should never be mixed with acorus bark. One or the other.”

“The soup was quite lovely,” the girl tittered. “Comlipents… compolents… wait, let me try again.” She licked her lips and wriggled her mouth. “My com-pli-ments to the cook. A little thin on the palate, but quite pleasing in general.” Satisfied with herself, she smiled and leaned back, forgetting she was sitting on a stool and falling right onto her back where she erupted into another fit of hysterical laughter.

“No, no, no,” the boy said as he rushed to help her up into a sitting position. “Not right now. We can’t afford this.

“Your eyes are so blue.” Aline reached for his eyes, fingertips brushing within a hairsbreadth of his eyeball before he managed to swipe them away. “Like the ocean reflected in the sky.”

“I’m going to give you something to counteract the acorus and tulum root,” the boy said. “Powdered agir, perhaps? No that will put you to sleep. Think damn it. Think. What did father say was best for detoxification? Emendar seeds?”

“You’re very pretty.” Aline stroked his cheek. “If only you would shut up and let me sleep. You’d be a lot prettier then. Be a darling and carry me to bed, would you? And get these damned rags off me.”

The boy stared into her eyes, then shook his head. “Perhaps sleep is the best thing. We may yet have some time before those men make their way here. The way isn’t clear at night and morning is still an hour or two away. Not much time, but perhaps enough for you to regain your wits.”

Aline’s chin slumped to her chest. Eyelids sagging closed, she grinned at her victory. “And once I’m in bed, go tell those horses to quit stamping about, will you?” she slurred. “I swear, if it’s not one thing, it’s another with you bloody peasants.”

“Horses?” The boy stood so abruptly, Aline fell sideways, sprawling onto the floor. He strained to listen, then bent to haul Aline to her feet. “Merciful Lyriala, grant us the good fortune to get out of this alive I’ll bury a pile of gold crowns in your honor.”

The boy dragged Aline bodily to a shelf on the opposite side of the fireplace. He propped her up against himself, then used his free hand to flip open the latch on a dull metal box. He flipped it open, and Aline could see within it fat lumps of what looked like coal. The boy took a quick look around the cabin, then flung the contents of the box toward the fire. Many of the pieces landed in the flames, while others fell to the ground in a shower of black dust. Aline was confused, about why the task was so urgent, but she quickly forgot about it as she was jostled across the cabin and out a small door in the back. They emerged next to stacks of wood taller than she was. The sound of horses was louder now.

“My father’s bow,” the boy grumbled. He set Aline in the shadow of a rain barrel, then darted back through the door.

The thunderous hoofbeats came to a sudden stop on the other side of the cabin. Aline heard a man say something in an authoritative voice, but she couldn’t make out any of the words. She’d been comfortable inside the cabin and did not want to be outside. The ground was hard and stony, and her breath made visible puffs of moist air in the moonlight. The sound of a fist hammering on the front door made her turn her head in time to see the boy reemerge from the cabin, a stick wrapped in cloth clutched in one hand, a cloak flung hastily over his shoulders. When he scooped her up again, the harsh smell of something acrid burned her nostrils. She had no time to question the sharp odor before the boy ushered her away from the cabin, flitting from the woodpile to the shadows of a small shed. Once they’d rounded the shed, he urged her to move more quickly as they made a direct line for the nearest edge of the tree line bordering the small clearing in which the cabin sat.

“Must we run,” she whimpered as they hurried into the trees.

The boy pushed her down into a clump of bushes. “Shush.”

Aline was about to protest when searing white light erupted from the cabin. Men screamed and horses whinnied in fear as a fire consuming surged from the windows, licking at the walls and spreading to everything it touched. The smell of wood smoke drifted toward them where they hid. The scent made Aline’s mouth water. It reminded her of the Sommarfest bonfires and of sweet wines and savory pies. What she wouldn’t give for a goose-liver pie. Buttery flakey crust so hot it burned her lips and tongue every time, yet she never found the patience to wait for it to cool. Aline still felt sleepy and more than a little confused, but the fire was so beautiful in its destructive glory, she couldn’t stop staring at it. After what seemed like an eternity, during which she forgot why she was even there in the first place, she saw a man stalk around the edge of the cabin, just outside of the reach of the flames. Lit from behind as he was, Aline couldn’t make out any details of his face, yet she knew he was looking for her. She felt her blood run cold and she snuggled tighter against the boy’s shoulder. Closing her eyes now, she pressed her face against him, willing the evil man to go away and let them be. The boy’s fingers dug painfully into her arm, and she couldn’t tell whether she was shaking or he was. Or if the ground itself had become so angry it was preparing to open up and swallow her whole. She clung to the boy for dear life. It was only when he pulled her back to her feet that she opened her eyes and dared look in the direction of the burning cabin again. Just as quickly, she shielded her face and turned away. The structure was barely visible, masked by an inferno so incandescent it was painful to look directly at. Aline blinked the lingering ghost of flames from her vision, stumbling deeper into the shadows of the trees alongside the boy.

“Will they chase us?” she asked.

The boy continued on for several paces before answering. “If they haven’t found us yet, they won’t begin a proper search until morning. We must be as far from this place as we can manage by then. This forest is as much my home as the cabin was. I know it better than anyone, save my father.”

His voice faltered and cracked at the mention of his father. Aline remembered the boy risking his life to go back into the cabin for his father’s bow, and she knew there was something important there, but she couldn’t quite remember what made her think that. Even through the thickness of thought chewing the acorus bark had left her with, she was certain she’d never met this boy or his father in her life. At the same time, she knew tragic loss when she saw it. Or rather, heard it in someone’s voice. Whatever the case, thinking about his father seemed to have kindled something within him. He bowed his head a little and moved more quickly. When Aline stumbled, which was often, he was quicker to jerk her upright, losing much of the gentleness he’d first exhibited. He volunteered no information about where they were going or what his plan was, and Aline knew better than to ask. She still felt light-headed and fluttery from the bark and soup, but the fire had sobered her enough to recognize the danger they were in if they couldn’t put enough distance between them and their pursuers before the sun rose and gave enough light for them to follow.

Even now, the sky where she could see it between the trees had faded from inky blackness to a deep purple that hinted at the coming dawn. She didn’t know how long she could keep walking at this pace, but her feet and legs were blessedly numb, so she continued to march onward. The only thing worse than the idea of walking through the forest for hours before the boy deemed it safe enough to stop and rest, was the thought of what those men would do if they caught up with her. This Magus person wanted her alive, but what of the boy? The brigands or soldiers or whatever they were, would no doubt run him through for the trouble he’d caused them. And she didn’t doubt they’d be gentle with her on the journey to wherever the Magus waited. Though she’d only read about them in the histories and in the sort of storybooks written to scare young girls into behaving, Aline knew there were far worse things than having to trudge through the forest for hours. If there was a safe place for her in this world, it was beside this boy who was risking his own life to protect her. She didn’t know why, but so long as he was willing to continue, she swore to herself she would do her best not to complain. For the time being, she simply focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Over and over again until the sun rose over the trees, and for countless hours afterwards.

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Thanks for reading! Chapter 5 will be available Thursday, February 23rd.
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