[Mkguild] Healing Wounds in Arabarb (59 of ?)

[C. Matthias]

Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias



It took about two hours for Jarl, Ture, and the rest to gather up the 
wounded and bring them within the castle walls. They were aided by 
glad men and women of the city, and loaned several wagons. Vysterag 
the shipwright was one of the first to come to their help, but he 
seemed more interested in collecting the dead soldiers and hacking 
their limbs off. The dead Resistance members and their dogs were 
treated with respect and carried in covered carts back to the castle 
along with the wounded. Women came to tend them, and men quickly took 
up the fallen arms to man the gates while others started repairing 
the ruined barricades.

And everywhere they went through the city they were welcomed as the 
heroes they were. Jarl didn't even mind that most of them did not 
recognize him. That could come later.

What he most enjoyed seeing was the headless body of the baron being 
dragged through the streets by donkey who couldn't quite tell why 
this lumpy weight had been attached to his harness, and certainly not 
why people were throwing stones right behind him. Jarl laughed as the 
stones bounced off Calephas's pasty flesh, bones twisted and mangled 
as he bounced along the stone roads.

When they returned with the last wagon of injured, they that the 
western bailey wall was now a makeshift hospice with lean-tos set up 
to give the wounded some shelter. The mage Harald was moving from one 
to the next, while several of the women cleaned wounds and bandaged 
cuts and bruises. They even had bowls of hot, savory broth to share.

On the eastern side the dead were being arranged side by side beneath 
shrouds; even the tundra hounds were accorded such an honor. Jarl had 
to admit that it was mildly amusing to see three Keeper dogs helping 
lay real dogs in funeral repose.

Jarl brought the wagons to a stop while Ture and Eivind aided the 
last two men whose legs had been broken toward the lean-tos. The 
young man approached Harald who just rising to his feet, a look of 
weary exhaustion draped over his entire body like a cape. "Harald," 
Jarl said confidently. "Where are Gerhard and Elizabaeg?"

The mage rubbed his hands over his vest and gestured with a tilt of 
his head at the main castle. "Just inside, you'll hear them. Looking 
over poor Luvig last I saw."

"Will he be all right?"

The mage's eyes grew distant and he ran his hand through his beard, 
stroking down its entire length several times before answering. "He 
should live."

One of the men who'd accompanied Elizabaeg into the castle and then 
Jarl on his rounds through the city had told him what had happened to 
the alchemist. Jarl had seen men burned by fire before and while it 
always scarred the flesh, he'd rarely heard of any man consumed by it 
unless they had been trapped. The dark and distant tones of the 
southern mage were not reassuring. "What does that mean?"

Harald looked down at the injured man at his feet who had fallen 
asleep. "Everyone out here will recover and be able to live as they 
did before; fighting, making families, and passing on their legacies. 
Luvig probably will never do any of that."

Jarl swallowed. "What happened?"

"He lost one of his eyes and one of his ears, but the others should 
still work once they heal. His face will be a ruin even after it 
heals. And his arms... I had to remove both of his arms at the 
elbows. The flesh there... was cooked through."

Jarl felt sick at the thought of it, but found the ire to declare, 
"If this is to be my house, then Luvig will always live here in honor."

"Your house?" Harald turned to look at him in surprise, noting his 
earnest expression. Suddenly his lips twitched in a half smile as 
understanding dawned. "Oh, Gerhard said something about you being the 
old thane's grandson. I'm glad you're alive, Jarl. Go on now. I have 
many more to tend."

Jarl stepped past the mage as he made his way toward the main castle 
gates. He glanced back once and noted that there were more bodies to 
be buried than there were to be healed and sighed. Some of those had 
been his friends. At least none of them had been his brothers.

Once inside the castle's main door, the passage forked in three 
directions, but he only heard voices from the passage directly ahead 
of him. He walked down the narrow hall lit by lanterns until he came 
to a wide room with several tables. Nobody was sitting at the tables, 
but several people were sitting on them, gathered in a sort of 
circle. He recognized Elizabaeg, Brigsne, and Gerhard, as well as the 
soldier who had been a spy for the Resistance. There were a few other 
faces he did not know.

"Jarl," Gerhard waved his hand, a broad grin dominating his face in a 
way that seemed utterly alien to the dour man. "Come! There is much 
still to discuss. Did you gather all the wounded and dead?"

He nodded as he walked into the midst of the circle and crossed his 
arms over his chest. "Harald and many of the women of Fjellvidden are 
tending the wounded. The dead are being arranged. Where did the 
Keeper dogs come from?"

"The kennels," the soldier spy said with a grunt. He sat next to 
Gerhard who had a firm, glad hand on his shoulder. "Gmork kept them 
there as his pets, but... Gmork is dead now and so they are free."

Jarl noted the way Gerhard and this soldier kept close and appeared 
to smile at each other. And then he looked at the shape of their eyes 
and cheeks and barked a laugh. "Your his father!"

Gerhard nodded and patted the soldier on the back. "Father to a son 
he'd thought he lost. Gwythyr here never told me he was joining the 
Resistance. I spent two years thinking you'd betrayed your family!"

Gwythyr shook his head and laughed, "Father, I told you. If I'd said 
anything then we'd all have been forfeiting our lives."

Jarl shook his head and blinked, even as several of the others 
laughed again. "I'm confused."

"Then let me explain it," Gerhard said. He quickly described how 
Gwythyr his son had left their home two years ago declaring that he 
was joining Calephas's army. The news had come as a great shock to 
Gerhard who had tried to raise his boy to loath the usurper and 
pederast. But it had been a ruse as Gwythyr sought to become an 
informant to the Resistance. He'd hated having to do it, but had he 
told his father the real reason, if one of them were captured then 
both of them would die.

"But," Gerhard finished as he looked at his son one more time, "we 
don't have to worry about that anymore."

"But what we do have to worry about," the man sitting next to 
Elizabaeg with graying beard and stern regard, "is what to do about 
the rest of the soldiers still holding all the villages in Arabarb. 
Far too many escaped Fjellvidden today. They will regroup quickly. 
The commanders of the garrisons will vie to see how can command what 
is left of the armies. We have only Fjellbvidden, and we did it with 
men from all over Arabarb, a third of which are now dead. We cannot 
hold this city, nor can we keep everyone here."

"That's true," Brigsne admitted with a grunt. "I heard some of the 
tundra men complain that they wished to take the fight up north to 
free their lands."

"And I don't want to leave the south for long," Gerhard agreed. "But 
if Fjellvidden is captured again, then everything we did was for nothing."

"Not quite," the man next to Elizabaeg said in his growling voice. 
"Calephas is dead. He will never come back. And the mage has been 
defeated and his pups have fled. Let us hope they do not return. And 
the Lutins are fleeing or dead. Arabarb is for men and for our dragon 
friends." This last he said with a crooked grin.

"Which means that this is a fight for men, and that is something we can win."

"But we do have to protect Fjellvidden," Jarl said. "We need to 
repair all the defenses and find weapons for the men of the city. And 
when news spreads of what we did here, other cities will destroy the 
soldiers too."

"Agreed," Gerhard said with a quick nod to the youngest man present. 
"I have already given instructions that the barricades be rebuilt. 
They should be up in a few days. I was hoping to have Ture organize 
the men of Fjellvidden. It's been ten years since they have fought 
and they'll need some discipline to become effective defenders. Only 
then can we move on the other villages and provinces."

Jarl grimaced and narrowed his eyes, "Why do you feel you have the 
right to give these people commands? You are not from this place, and 
you are here only because you changed your mind about helping."

Brigsne grunted and tensed and Elizabaeg lowered her eyes, sighing 
deeply. Gerhard regarded him evenly. "Jarl Thoronson, you are young 
and you have not led men into battle. I have. You of all should know 
that alone inspires our people."

"They came to fight when I called them, when I said who I was!"

"Aye, they did," Gerhard nodded, his lips curling into a sullen 
glare. "They remember your grandfather. But that does not mean you 
are equipped to guard this city. It does not mean you can."

Jarl ground his teeth and balled his hands into fists. "It is the 
honor of my family! It was my family that was slain. It was my 
grandfather and father whose heads decorated pikes on the castle walls!"

"I am well aware of that!" Gerhard shot back, standing up and drawing 
his arms over his chest. "But that does not mean we should trust 
Fjellvidden to you."

The man sitting next to Elizabaeg held up one hand with a regard that 
seemed born of patience. "Jarl Thoronson. I knew your father and 
served under your grandfather Thane Angulf Amundson. He was a 
towering man with a wicked temper, the strength to break trees, and a 
laugh that made the wine flow more freely and tenderized the meat at 
feasts. My wife has told me how you have lived hidden these seven 
years as the adopted son of a fisherman in Seydisfjord. What of them?"

Jarl stared at the weathered man with graying beard; he still had 
patches of red hair in the midst of the age, and from the way he 
carried himself and regarded everyone in the room, he knew this was a 
man of patience, of valor, and of a strength beyond his years. And 
sitting next to Elizabaeg as he did, he knew this had to be her lost 
husband, Alfwig, the man so many in the Resistance had looked to for 
leadership. A man he had long hated from afar, but now that he was in 
his presence knew he could never hate again. There was something 
about him, something that reminded Jarl of his father Thoron 
Angulfson. His heart ached at the mere memory of him.

And with them he thought of his adopted family. His new father who 
had always been and always wished to be a simple fisherman plying the 
coasts for his trade no matter the weather. He thought on his adopted 
mother's pleasant smile, strong arms that swept her children close 
whenever the soldiers came knocking, and the way she used to whistle 
to herself while she tended clothes or cooking. Then there were his 
brothers and sisters, more than he ever imagined any family could 
have, who had welcomed him without complaint, enduring his bouts of 
weeping and anger with equanimity and generosity. They taught him a 
trade that he did not relish but that he was grateful for 
nevertheless. And they had given him a family when all of his own was 
taken from him.

"I could never abandon them," he admitted, his voice softer and his 
eyes lowered. But he lifted them with new fire in his lungs. "But I 
am not just going to be a fisherman either. I know what needs to be 
done for this city and for Arabarb! Once we secure Fjellvidden, we 
next need to drive the soldiers off the coasts. That's where the 
wealth is. If they have none of that then we can trap them in the 
forests and kill them like deer and bear."

Alfwig nodded. "And the Pass? What of the fort in the Pass? 
Calephas's soldiers still control it."

Jarl took a deep breath and nodded. "Aye, they do. But they have no 
supplies unless we send it to them. They can hunt, true, but not 
enough. We only need starve them and they'll surrender in a few 
months. Or flee."

"But what of your family?" Alfwig asked again, his voice almost 
gentle as well as stern.

"No matter what, I will be there when we free the southern coasts. 
They don't know who I really am. It should be me that tells them."

Gerhard narrowed his eyes. "Why not just go back there when all the 
land is free and be their son again? You could make that land your 
guard and be close to them always."

Jarl swallowed and turned back to the red-haired man whose hard face 
did not seem to have any charity in it anymore. "Because that is not 
my ancestral home. This is! Although if you are so intent on becoming 
thane yourself, Gerhard, then between us it can only be settled with 
blood. I will challenge you for this guard if you so desire it! First 
blood from the chest. If I win, Fjellvidden is mine and you may lead 
our forces to the southern lands and mountains where you come from. 
If I lose, I ask only that you allow me to lead the men to retake 
Seydisfjord and the other coastal villages that I might be thane of 
that guard."

He drew his long knife and held it before his chest, the tip coming 
to his lips. "What say you, Gerhard? Will you?"

Gerhard regarded him for several long seconds while the other men in 
the room held their breath. Elizabaeg, the only woman present, 
frowned at them both and looked ready to jump to her feet and scold 
them both for being foolish children. But she said nothing, lettering 
her eyes fix upon the other man to see what he would do.

After studying him intently, noting the knife and the fire in his 
eyes, Gerhard uncurled his arms from his chest and drew his sword. It 
was longer and thicker than his knife, and it would take all of 
Jarl's skill to avoid being skewered by that blade. His opponent 
lifted the blade for a moment, staring past the shaft toward the 
young man with hard blue eyes. Then he lowered the blade and set it 
down on the stones beneath them.

"I will not," Gerhard said at last, his voice soft and reserved. "But 
not because I believe you are ready to be thane, young Jarl 
Thoronson. But because I do not wish to be thane of this or any other 
guard in Arabarb."

His response surprised Jarl; while it removed a rival, Gerhard still 
made it clear that he would not support him. He scanned the others in 
the room. "Well, if you won't challenge my right as the heir to Thane 
Angulf Amundson, will anyone else?"

"Jarl," Alfwig said gently, "lower your blade. No one here wishes to 
challenge you. No one here denies you first claim to the guard of 
Fjellvidden." He extended one hand and smiled in a way that made his 
weathered and solid face seem as gentle as an Autumn rain. "You are 
still young, and you did not have the chance to learn what your 
grandfather and father wanted very much to teach you. I will support 
you, out of love and loyalty to your grandfather and father who were 
good and great men. But only if you can demonstrate that you have the 
patience and wisdom to listen to those older and more experienced 
than yourself. Can you do that?"

Jarl took a deep breath and slowly lowered the knife until the tip 
pointed at the floor. His knuckles were white around the pommel. "I 
know I don't have the experience I should," he said, carefully 
considering his words. Alfwig was he whom the others trusted. If he 
had this man's support, he would win them all. "It's been nine years 
since I lived in Fjellvidden; Ture and others will know far more 
about what needs to be done here, and who can do it. And you Gwythyr, 
you will know too. I don't know all of my weaknesses. I can be 
short-tempered. And I have wanted this guard to restore my family's 
name and honor.

"I don't remember who you are, Alfwig. I don't remember you or your 
service to my grandfather. But I know that everyone in the Resistance 
who was important or based here in Fjellvidden looked to you with 
confidence and hope. I resented that and I am sorry. Please help me 
do what is right. I don't ever want to see invaders steal our home again."

"Nor do I or any other man here," Alfwig agreed with a slight nod to 
his head. "But one thing more; if you had to choose between your 
family's honor and your new family's lives, which would you choose?"

Jarl ground his teeth together again and forced himself to take two 
deep breaths before answering him. "My family's lives. I was too 
young to save my first family. I do not want to lose a second. I'd 
have no honor at all if I let them die."

Alfwig's lips pursed between the scraggly beard and he inclined his 
head respectfully. "Then, young Jarl Thoronson, I believe one day 
that you will be Thane Jarl Thoronson. But now is not the time to 
squabble over such things. We are going to work together to protect 
Fjellvidden and to reclaim our homeland. When our fight against the 
foreign soldiers is done, then we can speak of thanes and of guards. 
And," he lifted one hand to still Jarl's tongue, "I believe you will 
do far more to reclaim your family's honor freeing all of our country 
than you will ever do being thane over Fjellvidden."

Jarl forced his temper to sit still and he considered the older man's 
words. They did sound like the sort of advice his father and 
grandfather would have given him. He pondered the idea of leading a 
charge of horsemen into Seydisfjord, bearing gleaming armor and 
swinging both axe and sword. Once the soldiers were routed he would 
dismount and embrace his adopted mother and father, and each of his 
brothers and sisters. How well he could see the looks of joy on their faces.

"Very well," he said and sheathed his knife. "Very well, Alfwig. Let 
us talk no more of thanes and guards. I only ask two things. That I 
be part of our counsels as we fight to reclaim our home. And that I 
be allowed to lead our men into Seydisfjord."

"The first is already done," Alfwig noted with a sweep of one hand. 
"The second we cannot promise; Eli alone knows the future. But if it 
is is possible it will happen. Now come, let us talk as friends and 
fellow warriors of Arabarb. There is much that must be done and 
little time to do it."

Jarl felt the tension ebb in his chest and arms as he sat down on one 
of the tables and listened to the other men discuss all the dangers 
that they still faced in Arabarb. The image of coming to the rescue 
of his new family filled his heart with joy. And he knew it would 
make his father and grandfather smile.

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

Charles Matthias


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