Jonn motioned for his three charges to move backwards, and as they did he swung his pack smoothly onto the floor, and hefted his staff into position in one easy motion. The first man came on suddenly, running at Jonn with a drawn sword in his hand, yelling incoherently as he attacked. Jonn waited for him to near, took a small step back, and cracked his staff hard on the attacker’s head, who collapsed instantly and lay still. Jonn’s attack had been lightning fast; just that slight step and his staff moving almost faster that the eye could see.
The other two men came on warily; one brandishing a battered sword with coarse wire woven round the handle, and the other a rusty, but wicked-looking, hunting knife. They looked less sure of themselves now, but not put off. They spread out to come at Jonn from both sides. The knifeman flipped his blade from hand to hand, looked at his partner, and then the two ran in at the same time. Jonn span his staff round his head, and just as they reached him stepped to the right, smashing the thick wooden stave into the outer side of the right hand man, his ribs snapping loudly under the blow as he was forced into his partner. The other man was thrown off balance, and before he could get his blade up Jonn stepped in and smashed the butt of his staff into his face. Blood flew from the man’s shattered nose as he fell screaming into the dirt. The first man was still lying on the ground, moaning and holding his side as if he was about to fall apart.
Jonn placed his foot hard on the man’s head and he was instantly still, his cheek grinding into the ground. “Don’t follow us,” Jonn said, his voice cold as steel, and, beckoning to his charges, he moved away from the three downed attackers. Before they had gone a hundred paces all three of them were yammering at him with questions, and even Taurnil was babbling excitedly.
“Keep moving, and shut up,” Jonn said firmly. Glancing at their chagrined faces, he softened his tone. “We’re not out of danger yet,” he said in hushed tones. “I’ll answer your questions later.”
“What danger?” Gaspi asked. “You downed them in thirty seconds! They’ll never come after us.”
“Fighting skills are good to have, Gaspi; but all it takes is one mis-timed blow, a lucky slip of a blade, and it’s all over. Now shush!” After ten minutes there was still no sign of pursuit, and Jonn began to relax. “I’m sorry,” he said seriously. “I didn’t think we would meet this kind of trouble out here in the country. Maybe I should have asked Seth to come along.”
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Taurnil asked, a hint of serious intent in his voice.
“When Gaspi’s Pa and I were young we travelled outside of the mountains for three years,” Jonn answered. “For about a year of that time we joined the King’s army in Dernoth, a city even bigger than Helioport.” Gaspi was taken aback by this revelation. He had never really thought about Jonn’s life before he came along, or heard this detail of his father‘s life. The image of Jonn’s foot on the robber’s head flashed into his mind again, the violence of the gesture shocking him. He remembered the harshness of Jonn’s voice, and found it hard to reconcile it with what he knew of his gentle guardian.
Taurnil didn’t seem phased at all, however. “Jonn, can you teach me how to fight?” he asked. Gaspi rarely saw him look so eager about something, so utterly focussed.
Jonn looked steadily at Taurnil, saying nothing for a few moments. “Why, Taurnil?” he asked evenly.
“Hahldorn said I was going to be Gaspi’s protector. I can’t protect him if I don’t know how to fight, can I?” Taurnil sounded almost desperate, a tone Gaspi had never heard in him.
Jonn looked searchingly at Taurnil for a few moments, until he seemed to reach a decision. “Ok, we’ll cut a branch next time we camp in the wild, and I’ll teach you the staff.”
Taurnil nodded, a look of satisfaction in his eyes. “Thanks,” he said, and turned back to the road. As the day drew to a close they rounded a bend and saw the hamlet they would stay in that night. It was a small cluster of simple houses, one of which was clearly in use as the village inn, the door standing open, and warm, smoky light spilling out into the night. The sound of a squeeze-box drifted from the makeshift inn, and the four travellers began to think about cooked food and soft beds. Before they went in, Jonn advised them to stay quiet and follow his lead. The bar quietened as they entered, but the seven or eight locals quickly turned back to their pots, and they made their way to the bar unmolested. The inn-keep was a broad-faced, big-boned fellow, with heavy brows overhanging his face.
Leaning on the bar his eyes passed over Gaspi, Emea and Taurnil and came to rest on Jonn. “What’ll be your pleasure, friend?” he asked, his face breaking into a welcoming smile.
“We’ll be eating and staying the night, if you have room.”
“No problems there,” the inn-keep answered. “We have a couple of rooms free. One for your three, and one for the little lady I suppose?” He winked at Emea, the friendly gesture incongruous with his large, swarthy face.
Jonn nodded noncommittally, still a little wary of strangers after their experience on the road. “What have you got cooking?” he asked.
“We have a juicy roast lamb out back, with potatoes and some greens if that suits,” replied the inn-keep.
“That’ll be perfect,” Jonn said, and led them to a table near the fire. They kept their packs with them during the meal, unwilling to trust strangers around them when they couldn’t lock the doors to their rooms. The food came out on giant platters, served by the inn-keep himself, and accompanied by mugs of cool, creamy ale it went down a treat. All four of them were silent during the meal, apart from making a few involuntary noises of pleasure at a particularly juicy mouthful.
When his plate was clear, Gaspi pushed it away from him with a sigh of pleasure. His stomach was full and the ale was beginning to suffuse him with warmth. Grinning at his two friends, he listened to the tuneful wheezing of the local duo of musicians, tapping his feet to the rhythm. Emea looked particularly pretty; her cheeks glowing pink in the warmth, a big smile shining from her delicate features. They had not had much of a chance to talk about things since that first kiss in the Moot Hall. Everything had happened so fast since then they hadn’t been alone even for a moment. As he looked at her, memories of that first, soft kiss played havoc with his mind. He wanted to go out for a walk with her, but he knew Jonn wouldn’t let them in a strange village, and certainly not after the events of the day. So he had to settle for enjoying how lovely she looked, and looking forward to day they’d get to talk about what had happened. Taurnil badgered Jonn about his time in the army, and they spent the rest of the evening listening to some of Jonn’s stories, before going to their rooms.
As the innkeep had suggested, Emmy had her own tiny closet of a room, and the three men shared a larger room with three simple cots in it. Gaspi grunted as he sat down hard on his bed. The mattress was thinner than it looked, and lay on hard wooden slats beneath. It wasn’t luxury, but it was a vast improvement on the cold, bare earth. All three were quickly asleep; the two young men more exhausted than they realised, and even Jonn’s rumbling snores couldn’t wake them up.
Chapter 5
Gaspi awoke with a start in the darkness. It took him a moment to work out where he was. It was still dark and so he thought it must be the middle of the night. From the groans and scufflings in the room he knew he wasn’t the only one awake. Through his sleep-befuddled haze he vaguely wondered what had woken them all up. Suddenly, a scream sounded that sent a shiver down his spine. Not a short scream, but a piercing wail of terror that dragged on for seconds and seconds.
“What the heck is that?” Taurnil asked in fright. Gaspi heard more fumbling and a loud curse, followed by a small blossoming of flame in the lantern Jonn was holding.
“Stay put!” Jonn told the boys, but as he was sprinting out of the door, staff in hand, he stopped. “On second thoughts, come with me, and don’t leave my side for a moment!” They went past Emea’s door, where Jonn ordered her to follow along, and ran down the steps two at a time, bursting out into the village green. Other villagers had come out of their homes, and they followed them to a small hut on the edge of the cluster of houses. Entering the open door, they made their way to a back room, where a woman leant over a bed, sobbing so deeply her breath came in painful gulps. Tangled blond hair obscured her face, and her body shook violently with each sob. Below her lay a man clearly dead, his face white as a ghost and drawn into a ghastly mask of fear: a mingling of agony and surprise that twisted his face into something barely human, a creature whose mind had been stretched beyond sanity before death took him.
Gaspi had never seen a dead body before, but he knew the scene in front of him was affecting him in ways beyond what he should be experiencing. His knees had turned to water, and he felt a numbing distance insinuating itself between his body and mind. Coldness filled him, and his nostrils were assaulted by a freezing, faintly metallic smell. He felt someone grab him by the arm and only came fully to himself once he, Emea and Taurnil had all been dragged outside by Jonn. He became aware of the ground beneath him, the warmth of his breath, and the familiar feelings of his own heart and mind began to flow again as the numbing cold receded. Looking at Emmy and Taurnil he could see they had experienced something similar. Taurn was pale, his normal quiet solidity turned to fragility, and Emmy was crying quietly, huddled on the ground. He moved to her, surrounding her with his arms, and she leant into him for support, crying onto his shoulder. Meeting Jonn’s eyes, he could see even his guardian was shaken.
After a moment, Jonn got them to their feet and moved them back into the inn. No-one was in the bar, so they made their way silently back to their room. No-one seemed willing to speak, until Jonn urged them to start to pack their belongings. It was still hours from dawn, but there would be no sleep after this. They all froze when a tap on the door interrupted their hasty preparations. Opening the door a crack, Jonn checked who it was, tension showing in his stance, then swung it open to allow the inn-keep into their room.
“I thought I’d better come and see if you were okay,” he said, genuine concern showing on his broad face.
“What the heck was that?” Jonn asked bluntly.
The inn-keep sank onto Jonn’s bed, head in his hands, and sighed. “You deserve an explanation,” he said wearily. “This hasn’t happened for months, and we thought perhaps we would be left alone now.” He looked up at them through his hands, eyes bleary with tiredness and sorrow.
Seeing the man’s distress, Jonn softened his tone. “Tell us about it,” he said more gently. “Please.”
“It started last year,” the inn-keep began. “One of the girls from Henting was taken - a hamlet several miles west of us,” he said, indicating a general direction with a wave of his hand.
“She used to look after the sheep. Had something special about her, Alysia did. She was a simple girl...some would say a bit touched. But I just think her mind worked in different ways. She could see things sometimes, things that hadn’t happened yet. And sometimes she could heal the animals just by touching them.” The inn-keep paused, sadness stealing his voice for a moment. “They found her out in the fields, her sheep trying to wake her up. Looked like she’d had the soul ripped out of her, or been scared to death. I never saw a pretty face look so ugly.”
He stopped again, unable to speak for several moments. “She wasn’t the last,” he continued, the dim orange lantern-light leaving the deep lines of his face in shadow. “There were others, spread out over the plains; one from this village, one from that, all people with something special about them. A village Healer, young Alysia, and there was old Jack from our village.”
“What was special about Jack?” Emea asked, her face a picture of fearful fascination.
“Jack was the one folk used to ask to help when they needed to dig a new well. Somehow he always used to know where the water was; never got it wrong once. Easiest living any of us ever made. He just wondered around with his nose to the ground, and told them where to dig their wells. We found him dead in his bed six months ago, but there’s been nothing since. We were just getting back to normal,” he added despairingly.
“And what about the man we saw tonight?” Jonn asked. “What was his…ability?”
“Harold? He can…he could read the weather. He wasn’t always right mind, but he oft-times knew when a storm was coming, or an early chill. Of all the people who died his was the least…useful gift, ’specially as it didn’t always work,” he added with a pained smile. “We boarded up our homes against a storm that never came last year!”
Looking at their faces, he sighed again. “Well I don’t want to frighten you. I just wanted to let you know what’s been happening, and to say I reckon you should stop here the rest of the night. I know you might be wanting to leave, but this may be the safest spot around here right now. They have never attacked twice in a night.”
“They?” asked Jonn.
“Well, whatever is killing these people, there has to be a ‘They’ involved in it somewhere - don’t you think?” the inn-keep concluded.
“Alright,” Jonn said. “You may be right. Now isn’t the best time to be going out in the dark. We’ll stay here till morning; but Emmy, you’re staying in here with us.”
The inn-keep bade them goodnight, and left them to move Emea’s kit. Jonn put himself on the floor and gave the other three the cots, but as they lay down, sleep was harder to come by. After an hour or so, both Taurnil and Jonn’s breathing had deepened, but Gaspi couldn’t find any rest. Turning to look over at Emea’s cot, he thought he saw a slight shuddering through her bedclothes.
“Emmy?” he whispered gently, at which the shuddering increased and a tiny sob sounded though the blankets she had drawn over her head. Moving over to her, he sat on the edge of her bed, stroking where he knew her head was through the blanket, until she pulled the covering down a little and he could see the silhouette of her face.