[Mkguild] Healing Wounds in Arabarb (14 of ?)

[C. Matthias]

Lindsey reaches Fjellvidden

Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias



April 12, 708 CR


For much of the next two days, Lindsey and 
Pharcellus spent them laying in the wagon and 
watching what they could see of the world slip 
past. The road took them across several small 
rivers and after the first day, all of them 
flowed north toward the Arabas. On the second day 
were passed by a compliment of soldiers who 
insisted on inspecting Elizabaeg's wares. The 
hidden compartment proved its worth and after 
claiming some of the foodstuffs as an impromptu 
levy, they let Elizabaeg continue on her way.

The third day out from Vaar brought them to the 
long slope down toward the river bluffs and 
Fjellvidden. By midday they could see the city 
and its ramparts, a gray, drab collection of not 
very inspiring architecture hugging the southern 
banks of the Arabas. Hovels clustered about the 
walls, through which sheep, pigs, and cattle 
milled. To the east of the castle the land rose 
steeply, and across the gorge stretched an old 
stone bridge. The northern bluffs, as Charles had 
once described to Lindsey, were still dominated by Lutin encampments.

There had been a day when the Lutins had been 
pressed back into the tundra in the far north of 
Arabarb. Now they squatted in its most important 
city. They even held the gatehouses at either end 
of the bridge and who knew how many other 
important defenses for the city. Lindsey trembled in fury at the sight of it.

The road wound down a gentle slope before turning 
east to reach the city's western gates. Neither 
Lindsey nor Pharcellus said anything on that long 
descent. And once they joined the east-west road, 
Elizabaeg hid them in the wagon again.

The guard at the town gate apparently recognized 
Lindsey's mother, or rather her disguise, and 
allowed them into Fjellvidden after only a 
cursory examination. Through the wood and 
blankets they could smell the scent of bad fish, 
poor sewage, and whatever decrepitude the Lutins 
had left behind. They heard the crunch of wagon 
wheels on stone, the clop of hooves, the sound of 
a distant blacksmith, the cawing of birds, and precious little else.

Lindsey felt Pharcellus's hand on his shoulder 
and he was grateful for it. He'd always wondered 
what it would be like to have a big brother and 
was very grateful to learn now. He put his much 
smaller hand on the dragon's and patted it 
gently. And then grunted when the wagon bumped 
loudly over the stones. The grip on his shoulder 
tightened for a moment before the wagon came to a complete stop.

They listened as Elizabaeg climbed down and spoke 
to somebody else. They heard a pair of booted 
feet approaching, but Lindsey couldn't understand 
what they said. The conversation was brief, 
followed by the wagon moving again. After a few 
bumps, the ride became smooth as the horses and 
wagon wheels rode across wood. The little light 
they had coming through the enclosed compartment dwindled to almost nothing.

And then the wagon top opened and Elizabaeg 
smiled down through her false beard at them. 
“It's safe to get out now, Chellag.” She looked 
at Lindsey and swallowed. “Andirg, you can come out now. We're safe here.”

“Who are these?” a man's voice asked from behind the wagon.

Pharcellus and Lindsey shimmied out of the hiding 
hole in the bottom of the wagon and saw that they 
were inside a small workshop. Along the floor and 
walls were pieces to hulls, tar, pitch, wooden 
nails, and an assortment of tools. Their host 
must be a shipwright, Lindsey guessed. Which 
meant they had to be very close to the river's edge.

Their host was a tall broad man, even larger than 
Alfwig or Gerhard by at least a hand if not two. 
He dressed in several layers of oiled sealskin 
and kept his bright-hued beard in one of the 
tightest braids Lindsey had ever seen. And 
judging by its length the shipwright was old 
enough to have his first grandchildren. He eyed them both dubiously.

“These are my nephews,” Elizabaeg lied, “Chellag and Andrig.”

He nodded. “And who are they really?”

Elizabaeg smiled briefly. “My son and a friend. 
They are here to help us kill the monsters.”

“And we will,” Lindsey assured him. “Do not judge 
either of us by our appearances.”

“You speak well for you age,” the shipwright noted.

“I have been to Metamor.”

The man stared at him for several seconds before 
the import of those words struck him. His lips 
creased in a faint smile. “I see. But that means you are still a child.”

“A child that can think like a man. Now who, sir, are you?”

The smile widened slightly, but there was a wary 
distance in his eyes. The shipwright was 
impressed, but still unsure. “Vysterag. 
Shipbuilder and fisherman. One time sealhunter, 
but those days were a long time ago.”

Pharcellus busied himself with inspecting the 
half-constructed hulls stacked along the near 
wall, but his head was half-turned to show that 
he was paying attention. Vysterag watched him out 
of the corner of one eye, but most of his focus 
was on the ten year old Lindsey. “Seals are along 
the coasts. Why did you come to Fjellvidden?”

“To protect my family. They stay safely hidden, 
and I stay where I can keep an eye on you know 
who.” He crossed his arms over his chest and 
fixed his three visitors with a skeptical stare. 
“Now that you're here in Fjellvidden, what can we do for you?”

Lindsey glanced at his mother. She stroked her 
hands down the flanks of her horses once before 
meeting Vysterag's firm regard. “We need a place 
to stay while here that is hidden. Others will be 
coming in a few days. We need to be ready to 
strike as soon as my son had killed those 
monsters. And... I need a place to keep my horses 
and wagon that won't draw much attention.”

“He has watchers in the two Inns that haven't 
been ruined in the last ten years. And after what 
happened to Alfwig, Ture is also watched. Strom 
can probably take care of the horses and your 
wagon; his paddocks are big enough, but you'll 
never be able to slip away quietly there if things don't work.”

“I'm not intending to slip away, quietly or 
otherwise,” Lindsey pointed out. “Does Strom own cattle?”

“Sheep and pigs,” Vysterag replied with a shrug 
of his shoulders. “He helps keep the soldiers fed 
so they don't look at him too closely. I keep 
them in boats and fish so its the same for me.”

He pursed his lips in thought. “Are there ways to 
get into the castle from the river?”

“None of them easy. You'd have to fight the 
current to reach the river dock beneath the 
castle. The monster keeps a ship there for his 
own purposes. It's a fast yawl – he could sail by 
himself if he needed to – but big enough to carry 
supplies that would last him two, three months.”

“Has he ever taken it out?”

“A few times a year and always under heavy guard. 
It takes a dozen men to row it back into the 
dock, and I'm told the anchor weighs as much as 
any two men. But it's sea worthy. If you need to 
escape the castle, he'd never catch you if you stole it.”

“Could we get closer to the castle? Along the 
water I mean. I think I'd like to take a look at it tonight before we move.”

Vysterag nodded. “Fishing is best at twilight. We 
have a couple hours. Go to Strom's; he'll give 
you something to eat and a place to rest your 
head. Then come back here and we'll do a little fishing.”

Pharcellus turned fully to face them and hooked 
his thumbs through his makeshift belt. “I'd like 
to come too. Do you have enough room?”

“For a child and a young man? There'll be plenty 
of room. I could even claim you both as apprentices if I must.”

Elizabaeg sighed heavily and climbed back onto 
the wagon. “Thank you, Vysterag. I'll let Strom 
know that you sent us, and my boys will see you again in a couple of hours.”

Knowing that his mother wouldn't be there upset 
Lindsey strangely. He'd gotten used to having her 
there to keep watch over him and protect him the 
last few days. Even Vysterag seemed surprised. “You won't be coming along?”

She shook her head, her faux beard waving back 
and forth. “There's other preparations I must 
make tonight. My boys can take care of 
themselves. I am not afraid for them. I know you will take good care of them.”

The last she added with some meaningful weight 
that made Vysterag's brow furrow uncomfortably. 
He nodded quickly and waved one hand in 
dismissal. “In sooth. I will see you in two hours 
then. You two might want to get back into hiding. 
I'm going to open the doors again. They've been closed too long as it is.”

Lindsey and Pharcellus were quick to heed his advice.

----------

Quoddy felt a surge of relief when, after flying 
the last day through crisp, cool air over a 
landscape of scrub, grasses, and long stretches 
of snow and ice, he saw his youngest brother 
Machias perched on the signal rock overlooking a 
placid sea. The shoreline was encrusted with ice, 
but it had already broken in long stretches 
through the various rocks and fissures that 
formed the coastline. These rocks stretched for 
over a hundred yards before the first of the 
scrub could be seen. One ridge of granite stood 
amidst lower sheaves of basalt, and on its highest point rested Machias.

The puffin turned and waved to him with one wing 
as he swooped in to join him. For miles in every 
direction the tundra was empty but for other 
birds come back early for the pleasant and 
nightless summers. It made the choice of this 
barren rock a particularly safe one for their 
meeting. They both shifted into their most human, 
hugged with their wings, and cawed in delight.

Machias's orange and black beak creased in a 
boisterous grin. “Quoddy! I expected to see 
Lubec. What are you doing this far north?”

Quoddy took a minute to catch his breath after 
the long flight against the wind, and then said 
in as excited a voice as he could manage, 
“Metamor's sent help at last. I just saw Lubec 
two days ago. We're supposed to gather what we 
can of the resistance and go to Fjellvidden.”

Machias's dark eyes and golden lids widened, 
making his white cheeks even brighter by 
comparison. “Already? It's going to take me all night to pass that news along!”

“My contact in the south is already heading north 
with weapons and several others in the 
Resistance. Lubec's contact is doing the same.” 
Quoddy looked over his shoulder and folded his 
wings behind his back. “He's staying with them and will meet us there.”

“Well, the wind will be at our backs if we go 
southeast,” Machias murmured. “We can reach 
Fjellvidden in two days, a day and a half if 
we're lucky.” He then turned to the seagull and 
sighed in exasperation. “Oh brother, how have you 
fared down south? It's so different here than flying down south.”

“It is,” Quoddy admitted as he began to settle 
down on the rock, his taxed muscles begging for 
rest. “And if all goes well in the next few days, 
we'll be heading back to Metamor soon enough.”

He cawed a laugh. “I would love to see that crazy dragon again.”

“You will,” Quoddy squawked in real excitement. “He'll meet us in Fjellvidden.”

Machias turned his head to one side in an avian 
look of bewilderment. “How is he going to stay 
hidden? He's bigger than any four houses I've seen here!”

“He can take on a human form. Oh goodness, 
there's much more to tell. But it'll have to 
wait. I'm famished and tired. Is there anything 
to eat, and any place to rest out of this wind?”

“I have a good place out of the wind I'll show 
you. And there's plenty of fish. I'll find 
something for you. And then I'll go and tell my 
contacts the good news. What should I tell them?”

Quoddy hunkered down a little further and said 
softly, “Just that they need to be ready to seize 
the castle once our assassin had killed Calephas 
and Gmork. Oh, and the assassin is from Arabarb. Don't forget to mention that.”

Machias shrugged his wings. “They might not 
believe it; is there anything more I can tell them?”

Quoddy shook his head. “I'm sorry, no. We can't 
risk the wrong person hearing the plan. They just have to trust us.”

“Well,” Machias murmured glumly, “I'll do my best 
to convince them tonight. Tomorrow we'll fly 
together to Fjellvidden. Now let's get you 
someplace out of the wind and some food.” His 
beak cracked in a smile again. “It's so good to see you.”

“And you too,” the brothers wing-hugged again 
before the puffin and gull waddled off the high 
rock to a sheltered alcove away from the arctic wind.

----------

May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias


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