[Mkguild] Healing Wounds in Arabarb (39 of ?)

[C. Matthias]

Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias


Three miles west of Fjellvidden the walls on either side of the 
Arabas leaned toward each other. Across this span a stone bridge 
stood, connecting the east-west road south of the river with a 
northwest road through the rugged wilderness on the northern bank. 
Gate houses stood at either end, stone fortifications that permitted 
a dozen men to stand guard at either end. Only four men were awake 
during the third watch, while the other eight slept until morning.

And those eight, resting in the guardhouses, were just beginning to 
wake when the tundra men rode out of the forest with their sled dogs 
barking and yowling as they cavorted in a mad frenzy. The guards who 
were awake on the northern end all rushed to see what was amiss and 
were rewarded with a rain of arrows from the treeline. Two of 
Calephas's soldiers fell to the ground dead instantly. The other two 
crawled back toward the towers where their brethren were waking up 
before they succumbed.

Six men rushed into the gatehouse at the northern end, while the 
other nine men from the tundra crossed the bridge, shooting as they 
rode at the soldiers standing watch at the southern gatehouse. The 
eight men in the northern house could not even grab their swords 
before they were cut to pieces. And so too it was with the other 
eight soldiers readying their gear in the southern gate house.

Within two minutes every one of Calephas's soldiers had been 
slaughtered. Thuring regarded the work with a scowl. One of his men 
was nursing an arm which had been pierced by an arrow. "That will 
teach you to aim better next time," he said with a grunt as the man 
broke off the arrow head with his boot and yanked the shaft from his 
arm. One of the other men wrapped bandages about the wound and pulled 
them tight.

Machias the puffin flew out of the trees and gaped in horror at the 
ruined bodies strewn about the bridge. He flew up to the top of the 
southern gatehouse to escape the carnage, but then saw a soldier with 
an arrow through his eye and changed his mind. He wished he hadn't 
eaten so much fish as the mill.

Instead he glided back down and landed in the middle of the east-west 
road a short distance past the bridge where he didn't have to look at 
the bodies. He shuddered and offered prayers to Eli for forgiveness. 
He'd seen war before and had seen death. But he had not been 
responsible for any since the Battle of Three Gates. It was as 
soul-wrenching as he remembered it.

Thuring's steed road up beside him and the big man draped in heavy 
furs glanced down at him. Blood had splattered his shaggy horse's 
hooves. "Well, the bridge is ours and it's only a few miles to 
Fjellvidden. And look," he gestured to the southeast but Machias 
couldn't see anything over the trees. "The sun is rising."

Machias flapped his wings and circled up into the air. That brilliant 
golden disc cast its warm rays across the thick forests of Arabarb 
and through the clear skies of a new day. Even though it made the 
fresh blood dripping across the bridge glisten like a golden river, 
it brightened the puffin's heart to see it.

"Things never seem as bad in the day," he mused with a faint squawk. 
He circled back down and landed on the horn of Thuring's saddle. 
"Just one more river to cross now."

"We'll have to head a few miles through the forest before we can 
cross. With luck we can reach the eastern walls of Fjellvidden 
shortly after noon."

Machias settled down as he heard the other riders and their dogs 
running hard along the road to meet them. "Then let's keep going. 
They're counting on us."

"Then they won't be disappointed," Thuring declared with a throaty 
laugh. His other men laughed with him.

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The soldiers at the southwestern castle gatehouse were quick to open 
the gates for two of Gmork's pups. The eldest was at his most human 
and clasping a stoppered wine bottle in both paws with such focus 
that he trusted Gmork's youngest to lead them through town. The other 
pup was much more beastly in guise though he had strips of his robe 
torn from the base and wrapped over his face and snout so that only 
his golden eyes, triangular ears, black nose and his front fangs. He 
half stood on his hind legs while the gates opened, but dropped back 
to all fours and growled at the guards who were not quick enough to 
get out of their way.

They moved quickly through the inner bailey courtyard and then 
entered the castle proper and passed through halls that Gmork's 
youngest was fast learning. They passed a pair of Lutins but 
otherwise saw no others until they reached their father's listening 
room. Gmork sat on his haunches with his eyes closed and his ears 
turning from side to side. In the far corner curled up on the furs 
slept the boy who'd been one of the Tanner's apprentices only a few 
hours ago. His face was cleaned from all of its warts and he trembled 
from toes to ear tips as he dreamed.

"Father, we've returned," the eldest said as he carefully set the 
stoppered bottle on the floor. The youngest crouched weary and sore, 
and began to whine gently. Though his face still stung where the 
powder had burned it, he knew his father would tend him. Just being 
in his presence made his heart swell with joy.

Gmork opened his eyes and turned, noting them with his intense, dark 
gold eyes. "What did you find?"

"The Resistance was hiding in the mill. There are perhaps a dozen of 
them, but four of them went down river in a raft." The eldest scowled 
fiercely. "They wished to separate us and they succeeded."

Gmork's gaze turned into a deep frown, his jowls lifting as his snout 
grew. "They survived didn't they?"

The youngest whined, and Gmork turned to him, his brows lifting in 
concern. His tail wagged as he moved over and began unwinding the 
bandages from his pup's face. "What happened to you, my pup?"

"They used this," the eldest said, gesturing to the wine bottle. The 
bottom of it was filled with a small layer of the yellow powder. "And 
then made it wet. It isn't magical, but I did cast a spell to staunch 
its foul odor."

Gmork glanced at the bottle briefly, but then returned his attention 
to his youngest pup. After removing the last of the bandages he ran 
his paw-like hands over his son's lupine face, and scowled at the 
scorched and melted fur as well as the red welts pock-marking his 
face. "These wounds are not magical," he said softly. He gently pet 
his son's head and then licked across his cheeks and snout, drawing 
his tongue very slowly over each of the wounds. With each brush of 
his long tongue the pain subsided and the welts began to heal.

The youngest breathed slowly, keeping his head in exactly the same 
shape it had been in when he'd been wounded. He watched his father 
groom him and his tail wagged intermittently. The pain disappeared as 
he knew it would.

After his face had been completely bathed by Gmork's tongue, his 
father smiled to him and gestured to the furs. "Sleep, my pup, sleep 
with your younger brother."

He turned his head, looked at the boy for a moment, and then walked 
gingerly over on all fours, before curling up next to him, pressing 
his furry hide against the his new brother's side to help warm him. 
He closed his eyes and let slumber take him.

Gmork watched his youngest for a moment before turning back to his 
eldest. "Where did your brothers go?"

"They chased the ones who went south into the forest. They said there 
were eight or nine men."

"Not many," Gmork said thoughtfully. "How bad does the powder smell?"

"Very bad. It is a weapon, Father."

Gmork stared at the bottle for some seconds before nodding and 
gesturing at the furs. "I will take this to the Baron. He may know 
what it is. Listen for now until I return. If your new brother wakes, 
put him back to sleep."

The eldest glanced at the boy and then back to his father. "You 
aren't going to put him in the dungeons?"

"I may not have to with this one." Gmork picked up the bottle and 
cradled it in one arm, letting his face and posture melt into its 
most human. "When I return you will sleep as well." He stroked his 
pup down the back of his head and then swept out of the listening 
room. If the Resistance had a weapon to use against his pups, then it 
was time to put less valuable pieces in play.

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

Charles Matthias


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