Something was dripping down on Efrain - not that he could feel it, but rather he could feel it ping against his mask. His time down in the dark had merged and bled into itself like paint mixing on canvas. It was similar, he supposed, to that state between sleep and waking, where time seemed to flow and foam.
Above him was a grey sky, and the dark outline of a bow of some tree, dew slowly snaking its way to drip off its edge. Efrain groaned as he managed to sit up, taking stock of his surroundings, and finding them completely unfamiliar. A river with a stony bank, a bank filled with trees and bushes, a small bridge half hidden with mist.
To his surprise, his clothes were on him, seemingly untouched by the water and once more round and full. Efrain genuinely began to wonder if what he’d just experienced was merely a dream or an illusion of some sort. His suspicions were not allayed by the fact that the members of the troop lay around him in full dress.
It was rather difficult to struggle to his feet. Weakness was not something he experienced, let alone sluggishness, and yet, there he was, barely able to haul himself over to a stump and plop down.
“What,” he said as he sagged, “what did- what just?”
Innie dragged herself over to below him, dry but obviously displeased.
“What. The fuck. Was that?” he managed to finish.
“You’re asking me as if I know,” she said sourly, as she began to steam.
“It was like,” he said, gesturing into the air as he imagined the great beast and the ‘River’, “just, so much magic. A wall of it.”
“Yes,” she said.
“I couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t. None of us could. What was it? It was more powerful than you. More powerful than the pourjava.”
“Yes,” she repeated, sounding genuinely glum for the first time he’d known her.
“Something that powerful,” he exhaled, feeling no small amount of awe, “what was it? What could even-”
Words seemed to dance across his eyes as he thumbed through the lists of mythic creatures that could fit such a bill. Great dragons, ancient serpents of the wide oceans, the things that supposedly laid sleeping in the deep places of the world, bizarre, fanciful tales of spirits and apparitions from the deep hills and mountains, the original demons. Things that few claimed to have seen, and fewer still had any proof for.
And that thing in the waters, deep below the green road. Who’d called herself ‘the River’. Something older, and perhaps, more powerful still. Efrain’s mind could barely contain its own thoughts, at the speed they blurred and mixed. Trying to recall information, trying to form connections, trying to analyse the depth of the Tem’atek.
“Efrain, I-” Innie started, and trailed off to silence, she seemed to be at a loss for words. Another first.
Efrain was, of course, too lost in thought to really consider the look she gave him.
“But how did it-? It overruled the pourjava, and yet…” he snapped his fingers, “‘guardian’! She called it ‘guardian’! What does that mean? Guardian? Guardian of what? Or of who?”
“I’m glad you seem to be having fun,” she said, but there was something brittle to the sarcasm.
“What was the compact? Why was it created? Is it the green road itself?”
Efrain couldn’t stop himself, there were too many threads to pull at in this mystery.
“The Road. The Waters. Do they power the Road? Is that her term of the compact? But if the guardian didn’t have the authority to alter terms, and had to defer to her then-”
He turned to the water, staring as the river lapped at the stone shore and bodies of the soldiers.
“What did? What- who made the pact? Who…”
Something cold and quiet crept up his spine.
“Who created the guardian?”
The thought swam around his head, as he focused on one of the children. ‘Sorore’ he thought her name was. Perhaps it was a natural creature that was appointed? No, that didn’t make much sense. It would be equal ground with the Source, then, wouldn’t it? No, it was something created for the purpose of… what? What was it doing on the Green Road, and why did it bar their way? Had the two been created together, or was it merely a caretaker? Was it there for maintenance? To guard from something? To keep something in?
The child lay down below him, smaller than what her age might suggest. She was breathing slowly, deep asleep. It wouldn’t be that hard to catch a glimpse, would it? Efrain reached out, extending his fingers to touch her head. Maybe he could untangle the mystery if he just.
“Efrain!” Innie said.
He turned to see her bristling at him. Why? Was there a threat from behind him, from the sleeping girl perhaps?
“Get away from her,” she hissed.
He retreated from the child, looking at her quizzically.
“What’s wrong?”
“I saw what you were doing,” she said, eye furrowing, “what on earth were you thinking?”
“You didn’t have an objection when I did it to the other girl,” he said, slowly, moving further up the bank.
“I did and I do. And at that time, you had the excuse that she might be dying. If you have questions, ask the girl yourself. When she’s awake.”
“Alright, alright,” Efrain said, holding up his hands, “I was hasty. I got ahead of myself.”
There was a groan from the ground beside them and Efrain had to very quickly throw his hands onto his hips, and assume something resembling a casual pose. Sorore looked up, face half covered in damp hair, and squinted at him. Efrian sighed and moved to offer a hand, pulling her to her feet.
“Well, that was a bit rougher than I expected,” he said, “but I’m sure that…”
He looked around, and realised that, while he could see a handful of building outlines in the fog, he had no idea where they were.
“I think we’ve ended up where we need to,” he said, “with everyone mostly intact.”
“What happened back there?” asked Sorore, combing back the sodden hair from her face.
“An unintended detour. But it all worked out in the end,” he shrugged with an ease he didn’t feel, “the unexpected comes often during travel.”
For a second, it seemed like the girl wanted to put in a more pointed remark, but she ultimately settled for a vague acknowledgement.
“I’d better go find the commander,” Efrain said, wandering down the bank as the other soldiers began to rise from the bank. It took him perhaps another five minutes of sifting through the various faces and builds before he found Naia, helping others to their feet.
“Lord Efrain,” he said, his voice flat, “it would appear-“
“That my ‘shortcut’ was more fraught than I’d anticipated, I’m aware,” Efrain said, “as far I can tell, everyone that was there is now here. Including the horses, for that matter.”
“We’ll have a discussion about this later,” Naia said as he moved to the unconscious woman.
Efrain turned around, pondering if that was a threat, and nearly fell over backwards when he ran into Claralelle.
“Hi!” she said.
“For the love of- don’t do that,” he said.
“You, sir… commander?” she said as she strode past him, “you shouldn’t lift her like that.”
Naia had nearly gotten away, helping the woman limp as she draped over the shoulder. He looked over with a mixture of confusion and irritation.
“What are you talking about?”
“Not for her, but for you. You have bruised ribs. Maybe broken, I dunno.”
Claralelle pushed him away, taking his place to help the woman. Efrain followed as she began walking up the bank, stopping to look down at Naia.
“Who is that?” he said, feeling his side as he watched them.
Efrain shrugged, and offered a hand, which the commander took.
“Not sure. But I think she might be very useful,” he said, “how many of your soldiers were still injured?”
“Maybe a dozen or two? Half of those are serious. Why?”
Efrain helped him, emerging out onto a wide, cobbled expanse, perhaps a square or large road. A series of large buildings were surrounding it, most of their windows dark.
“Do you know where we are?” he said, looking around for any identifier that could help him.
“Albion,” Naia said, as he walked out onto the centre of the road, “I recognize the footbridge.”
“What? Where?” Efrain said, scanning for anything familiar.
“It’s a small village by the borders of the Alonshaze,” Naias said, “What time is it?”
“I’d say early hours of the morning,” Efrain said, marvelling how far southwest they’d travelled, “we’ve got a few hours yet until sunrise.”
“I see. I don’t suppose you can make a light, or something similar, to show the troops where to go?”
Efrain conjured a warm orange glow that lit up the fog. Within minutes, knights had flocked to them like moths, many of them carrying an injured comrade or two. Several of them, Efrain presumed to be captains of some sort, emerged, and were ordered to do a headcount.
“We’ve got everyone,” said Damafelce, “the injured are still alive. Most of our horses are scattered, though.”
“Take some rest here,” he said, “Damafelce, come with me. There’ll be residents somewhere close.”
Efrain was left with the rest of them, as they sat on the cobbles, unpacking what supplies they still had. Miraculously, it would seem the River had done them the courtesy of keeping them dry, so there was still some food and blankets to be dealt with. Neither was of much concern to Efrain, so he set off to see where Claralelle and Innie were up to.
He found her near the edge of the group, bent over an injured soldier, arguing with another one that bore the mark that Efrain thought delineated a nurse.
“I’m telling you, you’re doing it wrong!” she huffed, “he’ll die of infection if you cut him with those.”
The nurse was a younger, perhaps less experienced member of the troop, and that was probably what stopped him from turning this into a shouting match. He was, however, putting up something of a fight, much to Clarallelle’s chagrin.
“Alright, what are you doing?” said Efrain as he pulled her around to face him.
“He’s doing it wrong!” she pouted, with a petulance of someone half her apparent age.
“I am not,” insisted the nurse, “it needs to be removed.”
Efrain could see at least one of the problems. A significant portion of the man’s left hand was mangled, most likely beyond saving. The fourth and fifth finger were horribly swollen as well.
“Give him to me,” Claralelle said, more asking for a toy, than a patient, “and he’ll keep the hand.”
“I’m not letting some stranger waltz into our unit and take charge of our men!” said the man.
It was certainly a reasonable concern, and Claralelle was doing herself no favour by acting like a child. Efrain wasn’t in the mood to indulge her, but at the same time, he wasn’t interested in more headaches for himself.
“It’s alright,” he said, coolly, “I’m sure that there are more important matters, no?”
“I still can’t-”
“Were you specifically ordered to keep an eye on this particular patient?” he said.
“No, but-”
“And do you think that your seniors can handle all the other work alone?”
The man looked stricken. Efrain felt bad about forcing an uncertain youth into this, but if it saved him further argument, so be it.
“So, why don’t you worry about them first. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on the girl and make sure she doesn’t do anything untoward. If it bothers you, you can always come back to check.”
The man departed to presumably more pressing patients, glancing back the whole time. Claralelle began to pout even more profusely.
“I can help him,” she said.
“You’ve done little and less to earn their trust, so relax and wait for an opportunity. Either way, don’t make more trouble or I’ll tie you up and leave you somewhere, ‘gift’ or no.”
“Fine,” she said, as she knelt to examine the man further.
Innie slinked up beside him as he began to walk away.
“You know…” she said, “between that scolding and the wry humour, I think you’d make a great parent.”
“Back to that, then,” he said, “you seemed like you wanted to tell me something earlier.”
“I wanted to say that we are never taking another shortcut with you in charge.”
“Hmm,” Efrain said, as he brushed his hand across the stones of one building, “not unwarranted, I suppose. But then again, how was I supposed to know what was going to happen?”
“The world really has changed,” he murmured, trying to recall what details of this ‘Albion’ he could.
“You’ve been gone for two centuries,” Innie said, circling.
“I know, I know… but last time I passed this way, this would’ve been nothing more than a circle of huts, or nothing at all.”
He looked out to see the outlines of the buildings in the mist.
“It’s easy to think everything’s going to be the same when all you read is your own accounting.”
Innie didn’t seem to have a remark to offer, so the two stood there in silence for a good while.
“Well,” Efrain said, rain beginning to patter down, “we should make sure Clara hasn’t carved up that man yet.”
“She gets a nickname now?”
“Unlike you, I doubt she’ll object.”
Innie snorted, but didn’t argue, as the two walked back into the centre of the square.
Clarallel sat in the rain, now having a conversation with the more lucid soldier. His fingers, horribly swollen as they may be, were still attached.
“So you can’t feel them much?” Claralelle said, holding the man’s wrist up.
“It’s painful,” he said, “very painful.”
Claralelle gently extended the fingers, which led to obvious pain from the man.
“Hmm. But apart from that, do they feel numb? Tingly maybe?”
The man nodded.
“Why, is that bad?” he said, brow furrowing.
“Well, it’s not good,” she said, “you might need to lose the fingers.”
His face fell at the remark.
“Or at least some of them. I’d need to open them up to see what the damage really is. Might just be the tip.”
“Right, is there any good news?” he said.
“Well, most of your hand injuries are surface level. Couple of stitches and a bandage and they should be fine in a week or two.”
“So I’ll keep the hand?”
“Yes, you’ll keep the hand,” huffed Claralelle, seemingly offended that he’d even say it, “and if anyone tells you otherwise, I’ll cut off theirs.”
“Can you do it?” he said, waving his injured hand at her.
“Well, maybe if someone let me,” she said, sticking her tongue out at Efrain, “but not out here. Too wet. Riskier.”
“I assume the commander will soon have lodging,” Efrain chimed in, “if. If you can secure his permission, you can do what you wish.”
“Really?” Clara said, eyes practically glowing at the prospect.
“Yes. But you can convince him on your own,” he said, “I have only slightly more reason to trust you than he does.”
He barely managed to finish the sentence before she popped up and nearly skipped off. Efrain caught her arm, and spun her around.
“Where are you going?” he said.
“To find the commander. He’s the one with the beard, right?”
“Okay, first of all- it doesn’t matter. Just wait and he’ll be back soon.”
“The patient can’t wait.”
Her eyes might’ve been bright with excitement, but beneath there was a powerful conviction.
“Yes he can. It wouldn’t do you much good to go out searching for an hour, if the commander comes back in twenty minutes, would it?”
The woman seemed to weigh her options, and nodded, albeit distinctly displeased. She went back to kneel at the soldier's side, striking up another conversation. Innie smirked at him, the rain steaming off her.
“No. I don’t think I would,” Efrain said to the cat.
It took the better part of half-an-hour for Naia to return, a group of villagers in tow with makeshift stretchers. After a meeting with his captains, the soldiers began to split off into groups. The injured were ferried to some other location, Claralelle watching with an odd hunger and they went past. When that was finished, Naia walked up towards Efrain, Lillian beside him, her mouth a hard line.
“Well,” he started, “it would seem that, for better or worse, you did get us here faster than expected.”
“With significantly more danger,” Lillian said, accusingly.
Naia held up a hand, lines of exhaustion radiating around his eyes.
“Lillian, please, there were no casualties.”
“None yet.”
“Please,” he repeated, “I suppose that concludes our business, then. We appreciate your efforts, and are willing to compensate you for them.”
“The church is not inclined to forget its debts, no matter who we owe, even if I do think your ‘help’ was of little worth,” Lillian said.
She tried to fold her arms, presumably in some gesture of defiance or displeasure. Something lit up in her eyes before she could even get halfway, and she let out a soft hiss.
“Regardless, we’ve discussed a portion of our funds to repay you, for services as a guide,” he removed a small portion of parchment, “if you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to make a record of it and…”
He trailed off as Clara walked in front of Lillian, staring at her with intense curiosity.
Oh no, Efrain said, as Lillian frowned as she looked up at her.
“What are you?” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“You’re injured,” she said, “you can’t rotate your shoulder. Is that why you’re so grumpy?”
“I’m not… what are you talking about?”
Claralelle reached out and pushed on the shoulder, which elicited a grunt of pain from Lillian.
No. Stop. Come back, thought Efrain as he started forwards.
“See?” Clara said, grinning a wide, innocent smile.
Efrain doubted she even saw the punch coming, but it sent her spinning away all the same. Lillian gasped as she withdrew her gauntlet to hold her shoulder. Naia looked on in stunned silence, Innie bristled. All was silent for a moment, and then Claralelle popped back up to her feet.
“Wooaaw,” she said, her jaw shoved to the side, a trickle of blood flowing from a split lip, “yoouu ree sooh stroong!”
Everyone stopped to stare at her, a pang of what almost looked like regret spreading across Lillian’s face. Clara reached up, grabbed her jaw like a handle, and with a series of swift motions, she pushed it down and back with a ‘pop’. She rolled it, and gave another, now bloody, grin.
“See? It’s easy! Let me fix you.”
Naia and Lillian looked at each other in utter confusion.
Well, not what I meant when ‘convince him on your own’, but that might’ve done it, Efrain thought as he watched the pair. Clara once more approached, looking at her shoulder.
“I can’t really tell for sure, under all that armour,” she said “but I think I know what you did. Come on, let’s go somewhere dry. It’s a simple fix, and it’ll hurt a lot less when I’m done.”
“Are you a surgeon?” said Naia.
Clarallel considered for a moment, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.
“I guess so?” she said, “I fix people. When I come across them. Does that count?”
“Lillian, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but-”
“No,” she said, “I’m fine. And I have other duties.”
The paladin marched off the way she came.
“I don’t suppose… you’d want to take a look at our soldiers,” Naia said slowly.
“Yes!” Clara said, “where are they?”
“An old feasting hall. The locals were generous enough to allow us its use. I’ll show you the way.”
The two took off, Clara practically bouncing after the older man, leaving Innie and Efrain alone in the town square.
“Well, here we are, wherever ‘here’ is,” said Efrain, “hard to believe it started with just wanting to rehabilitate my reputation.”
“It’s been a busy week,” she said.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“I blame Carnes for this.”
She chuckled, little flecks of red and yellow drifting off her perfectly dry coat.
“Well, I better go and make sure that the next injury Clara receives is decapitation.”
“Efrain… you know you can leave. Go home if you want. I’ll take care of the girl.”
Efrain turned around, looking down at the cat. He wasn’t sure whether it was magic, or merely his long history with her, but he could tell she was concerned. He stood there for a long time, then something clicked in his mind.
“What did it tell you?” he said, quietly, “the River.”
Innie sat silent in the rain.
“She said, if you choose to chase after the children, there’s a good chance you’ll meet your end.”
Efrain started off in the vague direction of the brook they'd emerged from. He would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t take that warning seriously. He doubted it was prophetic, nothing truly was in his experience. But if the River’s claims about its age and breadth were even half-true… The thing possessed a knowledge and experience well beyond his own, ignored at his own peril.
He could go back, back to his comfortable, cold castle with his large library and telescopes and hidden vaults.
“You’ll find your answers there, with them.”
Why would the River tell him that, but neglect to mention a risk? She knew every face, every story, if she was to be believed. Efrain was many things - a scholar, a mage, a traveller, and oh, was he a liar, but ‘seeking truth’ was something as close to the core of him as possible.
Perhaps the River hadn’t mentioned the risk, because it would be ultimately immaterial.
“Well, I’ve lived a long life,” he said, shrugging, “but, if I live longer, I think I’d regret letting this big of a mystery pass me by.”
“You’re an idiot,” she said.
“And so are you, if you choose to come with me,” he said.
The two of them laughed and set off after Naia, the rain drumming down around them.
Something was dripping down on Efrain - not that he could feel it, but rather he could feel it ping against his mask. His time down in the dark had merged and bled into itself like paint mixing on canvas. It was similar, he supposed, to that state between sleep and waking, where time seemed to flow and foam.
Above him was a grey sky, and the dark outline of a bow of some tree, dew slowly snaking its way to drip off its edge. Efrain groaned as he managed to sit up, taking stock of his surroundings, and finding them completely unfamiliar. A river with a stony bank, a bank filled with trees and bushes, a small bridge half hidden with mist.
To his surprise, his clothes were on him, seemingly untouched by the water and once more round and full. Efrain genuinely began to wonder if what he’d just experienced was merely a dream or an illusion of some sort. His suspicions were not allayed by the fact that the members of the troop lay around him in full dress.
It was rather difficult to struggle to his feet. Weakness was not something he experienced, let alone sluggishness, and yet, there he was, barely able to haul himself over to a stump and plop down.
“What,” he said as he sagged, “what did- what just?”
Innie dragged herself over to below him, dry but obviously displeased.
“What. The fuck. Was that?” he managed to finish.
“You’re asking me as if I know,” she said sourly, as she began to steam.
“It was like,” he said, gesturing into the air as he imagined the great beast and the ‘River’, “just, so much magic. A wall of it.”
“Yes,” she said.
“I couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t. None of us could. What was it? It was more powerful than you. More powerful than the pourjava.”
“Yes,” she repeated, sounding genuinely glum for the first time he’d known her.
“Something that powerful,” he exhaled, feeling no small amount of awe, “what was it? What could even-”
Words seemed to dance across his eyes as he thumbed through the lists of mythic creatures that could fit such a bill. Great dragons, ancient serpents of the wide oceans, the things that supposedly laid sleeping in the deep places of the world, bizarre, fanciful tales of spirits and apparitions from the deep hills and mountains, the original demons. Things that few claimed to have seen, and fewer still had any proof for.
And that thing in the waters, deep below the green road. Who’d called herself ‘the River’. Something older, and perhaps, more powerful still. Efrain’s mind could barely contain its own thoughts, at the speed they blurred and mixed. Trying to recall information, trying to form connections, trying to analyse the depth of the Tem’atek.
“Efrain, I-” Innie started, and trailed off to silence, she seemed to be at a loss for words. Another first.
Efrain was, of course, too lost in thought to really consider the look she gave him.
“But how did it-? It overruled the pourjava, and yet…” he snapped his fingers, “‘guardian’! She called it ‘guardian’! What does that mean? Guardian? Guardian of what? Or of who?”
“I’m glad you seem to be having fun,” she said, but there was something brittle to the sarcasm.
“What was the compact? Why was it created? Is it the green road itself?”
Efrain couldn’t stop himself, there were too many threads to pull at in this mystery.
“The Road. The Waters. Do they power the Road? Is that her term of the compact? But if the guardian didn’t have the authority to alter terms, and had to defer to her then-”
He turned to the water, staring as the river lapped at the stone shore and bodies of the soldiers.
“What did? What- who made the pact? Who…”
Something cold and quiet crept up his spine.
“Who created the guardian?”
The thought swam around his head, as he focused on one of the children. ‘Sorore’ he thought her name was. Perhaps it was a natural creature that was appointed? No, that didn’t make much sense. It would be equal ground with the Source, then, wouldn’t it? No, it was something created for the purpose of… what? What was it doing on the Green Road, and why did it bar their way? Had the two been created together, or was it merely a caretaker? Was it there for maintenance? To guard from something? To keep something in?
The child lay down below him, smaller than what her age might suggest. She was breathing slowly, deep asleep. It wouldn’t be that hard to catch a glimpse, would it? Efrain reached out, extending his fingers to touch her head. Maybe he could untangle the mystery if he just.
“Efrain!” Innie said.
He turned to see her bristling at him. Why? Was there a threat from behind him, from the sleeping girl perhaps?
“Get away from her,” she hissed.
He retreated from the child, looking at her quizzically.
“What’s wrong?”
“I saw what you were doing,” she said, eye furrowing, “what on earth were you thinking?”
“You didn’t have an objection when I did it to the other girl,” he said, slowly, moving further up the bank.
“I did and I do. And at that time, you had the excuse that she might be dying. If you have questions, ask the girl yourself. When she’s awake.”
“Alright, alright,” Efrain said, holding up his hands, “I was hasty. I got ahead of myself.”
There was a groan from the ground beside them and Efrain had to very quickly throw his hands onto his hips, and assume something resembling a casual pose. Sorore looked up, face half covered in damp hair, and squinted at him. Efrian sighed and moved to offer a hand, pulling her to her feet.
“Well, that was a bit rougher than I expected,” he said, “but I’m sure that…”
He looked around, and realised that, while he could see a handful of building outlines in the fog, he had no idea where they were.
“I think we’ve ended up where we need to,” he said, “with everyone mostly intact.”
“What happened back there?” asked Sorore, combing back the sodden hair from her face.
“An unintended detour. But it all worked out in the end,” he shrugged with an ease he didn’t feel, “the unexpected comes often during travel.”
For a second, it seemed like the girl wanted to put in a more pointed remark, but she ultimately settled for a vague acknowledgement.
“I’d better go find the commander,” Efrain said, wandering down the bank as the other soldiers began to rise from the bank. It took him perhaps another five minutes of sifting through the various faces and builds before he found Naia, helping others to their feet.
“Lord Efrain,” he said, his voice flat, “it would appear-“
“That my ‘shortcut’ was more fraught than I’d anticipated, I’m aware,” Efrain said, “as far I can tell, everyone that was there is now here. Including the horses, for that matter.”
“We’ll have a discussion about this later,” Naia said as he moved to the unconscious woman.
Efrain turned around, pondering if that was a threat, and nearly fell over backwards when he ran into Claralelle.
“Hi!” she said.
“For the love of- don’t do that,” he said.
“You, sir… commander?” she said as she strode past him, “you shouldn’t lift her like that.”
Naia had nearly gotten away, helping the woman limp as she draped over the shoulder. He looked over with a mixture of confusion and irritation.
“What are you talking about?”
“Not for her, but for you. You have bruised ribs. Maybe broken, I dunno.”
Claralelle pushed him away, taking his place to help the woman. Efrain followed as she began walking up the bank, stopping to look down at Naia.
“Who is that?” he said, feeling his side as he watched them.
Efrain shrugged, and offered a hand, which the commander took.
“Not sure. But I think she might be very useful,” he said, “how many of your soldiers were still injured?”
“Maybe a dozen or two? Half of those are serious. Why?”
Efrain helped him, emerging out onto a wide, cobbled expanse, perhaps a square or large road. A series of large buildings were surrounding it, most of their windows dark.
“Do you know where we are?” he said, looking around for any identifier that could help him.
“Albion,” Naia said, as he walked out onto the centre of the road, “I recognize the footbridge.”
“What? Where?” Efrain said, scanning for anything familiar.
“It’s a small village by the borders of the Alonshaze,” Naias said, “What time is it?”
“I’d say early hours of the morning,” Efrain said, marvelling how far southwest they’d travelled, “we’ve got a few hours yet until sunrise.”
“I see. I don’t suppose you can make a light, or something similar, to show the troops where to go?”
Efrain conjured a warm orange glow that lit up the fog. Within minutes, knights had flocked to them like moths, many of them carrying an injured comrade or two. Several of them, Efrain presumed to be captains of some sort, emerged, and were ordered to do a headcount.
“We’ve got everyone,” said Damafelce, “the injured are still alive. Most of our horses are scattered, though.”
“Take some rest here,” he said, “Damafelce, come with me. There’ll be residents somewhere close.”
Efrain was left with the rest of them, as they sat on the cobbles, unpacking what supplies they still had. Miraculously, it would seem the River had done them the courtesy of keeping them dry, so there was still some food and blankets to be dealt with. Neither was of much concern to Efrain, so he set off to see where Claralelle and Innie were up to.
He found her near the edge of the group, bent over an injured soldier, arguing with another one that bore the mark that Efrain thought delineated a nurse.
“I’m telling you, you’re doing it wrong!” she huffed, “he’ll die of infection if you cut him with those.”
The nurse was a younger, perhaps less experienced member of the troop, and that was probably what stopped him from turning this into a shouting match. He was, however, putting up something of a fight, much to Clarallelle’s chagrin.
“Alright, what are you doing?” said Efrain as he pulled her around to face him.
“He’s doing it wrong!” she pouted, with a petulance of someone half her apparent age.
“I am not,” insisted the nurse, “it needs to be removed.”
Efrain could see at least one of the problems. A significant portion of the man’s left hand was mangled, most likely beyond saving. The fourth and fifth finger were horribly swollen as well.
“Give him to me,” Claralelle said, more asking for a toy, than a patient, “and he’ll keep the hand.”
“I’m not letting some stranger waltz into our unit and take charge of our men!” said the man.
It was certainly a reasonable concern, and Claralelle was doing herself no favour by acting like a child. Efrain wasn’t in the mood to indulge her, but at the same time, he wasn’t interested in more headaches for himself.
“It’s alright,” he said, coolly, “I’m sure that there are more important matters, no?”
“I still can’t-”
“Were you specifically ordered to keep an eye on this particular patient?” he said.
“No, but-”
“And do you think that your seniors can handle all the other work alone?”
The man looked stricken. Efrain felt bad about forcing an uncertain youth into this, but if it saved him further argument, so be it.
“So, why don’t you worry about them first. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on the girl and make sure she doesn’t do anything untoward. If it bothers you, you can always come back to check.”
The man departed to presumably more pressing patients, glancing back the whole time. Claralelle began to pout even more profusely.
“I can help him,” she said.
“You’ve done little and less to earn their trust, so relax and wait for an opportunity. Either way, don’t make more trouble or I’ll tie you up and leave you somewhere, ‘gift’ or no.”
“Fine,” she said, as she knelt to examine the man further.
Innie slinked up beside him as he began to walk away.
“You know…” she said, “between that scolding and the wry humour, I think you’d make a great parent.”
“Back to that, then,” he said, “you seemed like you wanted to tell me something earlier.”
“I wanted to say that we are never taking another shortcut with you in charge.”
“Hmm,” Efrain said, as he brushed his hand across the stones of one building, “not unwarranted, I suppose. But then again, how was I supposed to know what was going to happen?”
“The world really has changed,” he murmured, trying to recall what details of this ‘Albion’ he could.
“You’ve been gone for two centuries,” Innie said, circling.
“I know, I know… but last time I passed this way, this would’ve been nothing more than a circle of huts, or nothing at all.”
He looked out to see the outlines of the buildings in the mist.
“It’s easy to think everything’s going to be the same when all you read is your own accounting.”
Innie didn’t seem to have a remark to offer, so the two stood there in silence for a good while.
“Well,” Efrain said, rain beginning to patter down, “we should make sure Clara hasn’t carved up that man yet.”
“She gets a nickname now?”
“Unlike you, I doubt she’ll object.”
Innie snorted, but didn’t argue, as the two walked back into the centre of the square.
Clarallel sat in the rain, now having a conversation with the more lucid soldier. His fingers, horribly swollen as they may be, were still attached.
“So you can’t feel them much?” Claralelle said, holding the man’s wrist up.
“It’s painful,” he said, “very painful.”
Claralelle gently extended the fingers, which led to obvious pain from the man.
“Hmm. But apart from that, do they feel numb? Tingly maybe?”
The man nodded.
“Why, is that bad?” he said, brow furrowing.
“Well, it’s not good,” she said, “you might need to lose the fingers.”
His face fell at the remark.
“Or at least some of them. I’d need to open them up to see what the damage really is. Might just be the tip.”
“Right, is there any good news?” he said.
“Well, most of your hand injuries are surface level. Couple of stitches and a bandage and they should be fine in a week or two.”
“So I’ll keep the hand?”
“Yes, you’ll keep the hand,” huffed Claralelle, seemingly offended that he’d even say it, “and if anyone tells you otherwise, I’ll cut off theirs.”
“Can you do it?” he said, waving his injured hand at her.
“Well, maybe if someone let me,” she said, sticking her tongue out at Efrain, “but not out here. Too wet. Riskier.”
“I assume the commander will soon have lodging,” Efrain chimed in, “if. If you can secure his permission, you can do what you wish.”
“Really?” Clara said, eyes practically glowing at the prospect.
“Yes. But you can convince him on your own,” he said, “I have only slightly more reason to trust you than he does.”
He barely managed to finish the sentence before she popped up and nearly skipped off. Efrain caught her arm, and spun her around.
“Where are you going?” he said.
“To find the commander. He’s the one with the beard, right?”
“Okay, first of all- it doesn’t matter. Just wait and he’ll be back soon.”
“The patient can’t wait.”
Her eyes might’ve been bright with excitement, but beneath there was a powerful conviction.
“Yes he can. It wouldn’t do you much good to go out searching for an hour, if the commander comes back in twenty minutes, would it?”
The woman seemed to weigh her options, and nodded, albeit distinctly displeased. She went back to kneel at the soldier's side, striking up another conversation. Innie smirked at him, the rain steaming off her.
“No. I don’t think I would,” Efrain said to the cat.
It took the better part of half-an-hour for Naia to return, a group of villagers in tow with makeshift stretchers. After a meeting with his captains, the soldiers began to split off into groups. The injured were ferried to some other location, Claralelle watching with an odd hunger and they went past. When that was finished, Naia walked up towards Efrain, Lillian beside him, her mouth a hard line.
“Well,” he started, “it would seem that, for better or worse, you did get us here faster than expected.”
“With significantly more danger,” Lillian said, accusingly.
Naia held up a hand, lines of exhaustion radiating around his eyes.
“Lillian, please, there were no casualties.”
“None yet.”
“Please,” he repeated, “I suppose that concludes our business, then. We appreciate your efforts, and are willing to compensate you for them.”
“The church is not inclined to forget its debts, no matter who we owe, even if I do think your ‘help’ was of little worth,” Lillian said.
She tried to fold her arms, presumably in some gesture of defiance or displeasure. Something lit up in her eyes before she could even get halfway, and she let out a soft hiss.
“Regardless, we’ve discussed a portion of our funds to repay you, for services as a guide,” he removed a small portion of parchment, “if you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to make a record of it and…”
He trailed off as Clara walked in front of Lillian, staring at her with intense curiosity.
Oh no, Efrain said, as Lillian frowned as she looked up at her.
“What are you?” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“You’re injured,” she said, “you can’t rotate your shoulder. Is that why you’re so grumpy?”
“I’m not… what are you talking about?”
Claralelle reached out and pushed on the shoulder, which elicited a grunt of pain from Lillian.
No. Stop. Come back, thought Efrain as he started forwards.
“See?” Clara said, grinning a wide, innocent smile.
Efrain doubted she even saw the punch coming, but it sent her spinning away all the same. Lillian gasped as she withdrew her gauntlet to hold her shoulder. Naia looked on in stunned silence, Innie bristled. All was silent for a moment, and then Claralelle popped back up to her feet.
“Wooaaw,” she said, her jaw shoved to the side, a trickle of blood flowing from a split lip, “yoouu ree sooh stroong!”
Everyone stopped to stare at her, a pang of what almost looked like regret spreading across Lillian’s face. Clara reached up, grabbed her jaw like a handle, and with a series of swift motions, she pushed it down and back with a ‘pop’. She rolled it, and gave another, now bloody, grin.
“See? It’s easy! Let me fix you.”
Naia and Lillian looked at each other in utter confusion.
Well, not what I meant when ‘convince him on your own’, but that might’ve done it, Efrain thought as he watched the pair. Clara once more approached, looking at her shoulder.
“I can’t really tell for sure, under all that armour,” she said “but I think I know what you did. Come on, let’s go somewhere dry. It’s a simple fix, and it’ll hurt a lot less when I’m done.”
“Are you a surgeon?” said Naia.
Clarallel considered for a moment, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.
“I guess so?” she said, “I fix people. When I come across them. Does that count?”
“Lillian, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but-”
“No,” she said, “I’m fine. And I have other duties.”
The paladin marched off the way she came.
“I don’t suppose… you’d want to take a look at our soldiers,” Naia said slowly.
“Yes!” Clara said, “where are they?”
“An old feasting hall. The locals were generous enough to allow us its use. I’ll show you the way.”
The two took off, Clara practically bouncing after the older man, leaving Innie and Efrain alone in the town square.
“Well, here we are, wherever ‘here’ is,” said Efrain, “hard to believe it started with just wanting to rehabilitate my reputation.”
“It’s been a busy week,” she said.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“I blame Carnes for this.”
She chuckled, little flecks of red and yellow drifting off her perfectly dry coat.
“Well, I better go and make sure that the next injury Clara receives is decapitation.”
“Efrain… you know you can leave. Go home if you want. I’ll take care of the girl.”
Efrain turned around, looking down at the cat. He wasn’t sure whether it was magic, or merely his long history with her, but he could tell she was concerned. He stood there for a long time, then something clicked in his mind.
“What did it tell you?” he said, quietly, “the River.”
Innie sat silent in the rain.
“She said, if you choose to chase after the children, there’s a good chance you’ll meet your end.”
Efrain started off in the vague direction of the brook they'd emerged from. He would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t take that warning seriously. He doubted it was prophetic, nothing truly was in his experience. But if the River’s claims about its age and breadth were even half-true… The thing possessed a knowledge and experience well beyond his own, ignored at his own peril.
He could go back, back to his comfortable, cold castle with his large library and telescopes and hidden vaults.
“You’ll find your answers there, with them.”
Why would the River tell him that, but neglect to mention a risk? She knew every face, every story, if she was to be believed. Efrain was many things - a scholar, a mage, a traveller, and oh, was he a liar, but ‘seeking truth’ was something as close to the core of him as possible.
Perhaps the River hadn’t mentioned the risk, because it would be ultimately immaterial.
“Well, I’ve lived a long life,” he said, shrugging, “but, if I live longer, I think I’d regret letting this big of a mystery pass me by.”
“You’re an idiot,” she said.
“And so are you, if you choose to come with me,” he said.
The two of them laughed and set off after Naia, the rain drumming down around them.
