Angus Wells - The Kingdoms 03 (58 page)

 
          
“We
must cleanse these as best we may," Tepshen responded, trailing the
encrusted bandages in the river’s transparent flow.

 
          
He
scrubbed the cloth as Kedryn swabbed the wounds, and when they were dry wrapped
them once more about Brannoc. The half-breed’s body was hot to the touch and by
nightfall he was feverish, crying aloud and writhing with such force that they
took turns holding him still for fear he might, upset the dory. They forced a
little food between his lips, but what he did not instantly spit out he vomited
and they gave up their attempts, concentrating instead on calming him as best
they could and bathing his sweat-soaked body as the sun went down and a gibbous
moon shone pale over the woodlands.

 
          
They
began to share Brannoc’s nightmares then, for the folk they had seen along the
banks became more numerous, as if called by the moon and their presence, and
they no longer wore human form, become again the monstrous creatures of the
hold. The night was filled with their howling; it echoed over the river as they
raised wings and paws and scaled, clawed hands toward the boat, as though they
sought to draw it close by the sheer power of their joint will. Kedryn clutched
his wounded comrade as Brannoc moaned and trembled, seeming almost to answer
the clamor, Kedryn tried to block his own ears to that awful cacophony, and saw
that despite the brightness of the moon the talisman glowed brighter still,
encompassing the dory in its comforting blue nimbus. A thought came to him then
and he called Tepshen from his watch at the prow, urging die kyo to help him
strip Brannoc.

 
          
The
lacerations seemed almost to glow in the night, pulsing with a baneful life, as
if they sucked out the half-breed’s vitality to stimulate their own virulence.
Kedryn drew the chain of the talisman over his head and pressed the stone to
Brannoc’s chest, onto the topmost scratch. The half-breed screamed shrilly, the
sound seeming to come from a throat other than his own, greeted by an excited ululation
from the bank.

 
          
“Hold
him fast,” urged Kedryn, and Tepshen gripped the wounded man in powerful hands,
immobilizing him as best he could in the narrow confines of die boat.

 
          
Kedryn
slid the talisman down over one long gash, repeating the action for each cut.
Brannoc screamed and struggled against Tepshen’s hold then, but afterward
sighed and fell supine against the kyo. His breathing, previously labored, grew
more steady
, and it seemed to Kedryn that the
lacerations dulled, the poisonous oozing lessening. He replaced the talisman
about his neck and washed the bandages afresh, cleaning them of the purulent
encrustations. Brannoc lay still, his brow cooler to the touch and the moaning
of his dreamladen sleep softer; Tepshen released his grip and resumed his seat
in the prow.

 
          
Morning
dawned bright, the mist that spread across the river quickly burned off by the
rising sun. The changelings along the banks dispersed, resuming their human
form, cheerful birdsong replacing their awful yammering. Kedryn and Tepshen
breakfasted on the food looted from Taron’s hall and succeeded in feeding a
little to Brannoc. Kedryn repeated the curative process,
sun’s
light revealing a distinct reduction in the mephitic exudations, the wounds
less angry.

 
          
Nonetheless,
Brannoc remained unconscious for most of the day, his delirium heightening as
night fell and the angry yammering once more rose from the banks. Again Tepshen
held him as Kedryn applied the talisman, and again the stone worked its magic,
quieting his struggles so that he fell into fitful sleep.

 
          
The
next day he awoke and asked for water. Kedryn held the canteen to his lips and
fed him small pieces of roasted meat. This time the half-breed kept the food
down.

 
          
“I
feel there is something inside me,” he said hoarsely.

 
          
“Something evil.
When I close my eyes I see that succuba,
and she calls me to join her. ”

 
          
He
shuddered and Kedryn pressed his hands to the talisman. ‘The stone cures you,”
he declared. “Kyrie’s magic overcomes the venom of her claws.”

 
          
“I
pray so,” Brannoc replied, but Kedryn heard doubt in his voice and saw that his
dark eyes had a haunted look.

 
          
“It
does,” he said firmly. “See how the cuts repair.”

 
          
He
eased Brannoc’s tunic off and stripped away the bandages, passing them to
Tepshen to wash again, then once more ran the stone over the lacerations.

 
          
Brannoc
winced, gritting his teeth, but did not struggle this time, only muttering,
“Oh, by the Lady! It bums so!”

 
          
The
cuts were healing visibly now, the pustulent seepage halted and the swellings
reduced, the surrounding flesh no longer glistening with that angry redness,
but pink as clean flesh grew over the gashes.

 
          
Brannoc
sighed, staring down at the wounds, his face drawn. He reached dumbly for the
canteen, drinking deep,
then
turned to face Kedryn.

 
          
“I
was a fool,” he said contritely. “I permitted my lust to overwhelm my judgment.
I should have listened to Tepshen, and now I pay the price.”

 
          
“It
is done,” Kedryn returned, “and you have survived; do not dwell on it.”

 
          
Brannoc
shook his head, fixing hollow eyes on the bank. “I am less sure,” he murmured.
“I feel ...” He shook his head again and Kedryn saw that his knuckles shone
white where he gripped the thwarts. “I feel . . . unclean.”

 
          
“You
were poisoned,” Tepshen said from the prow. ‘The venom affects your mind.”

 
          
“It
is more than that,” Brannoc responded. “I am afraid.”

 
          
This
last was said low, and Kedryn saw that his jaw trembled on the words, his even
teeth clenched tight, as if he fought an awful dread.

 
          
“Of
what?” he asked. “We are free of the changelings’ clutches and you heal apace.
We have food and water aplenty, and we ride the river to Taziel’s mountains.”

 
          
“I
do not know,” Brannoc answered, and lapsed into silence.

 
          
He
spoke little for the remainder of the day, sleeping or staring at the forest
that rolled past along the banks, and when twilight descended and the
changeling creatures reappeared and set up their miserable chorus he sat
huddled, shivering although the night was warm. He struggled again when Kedryn
applied the talisman, requiring Tepshen’s strength to hold him down as he
fought the touch of the blue stone, screaming,
then
abruptly slumping into unconsciousness.

 
          
‘This
troubles me,” Tepshen murmured over the supine form. “His wounds mend fast as
any Healer might cure them, but he fights the process.”

 
          
“By
night,” Kedryn amended. “By day’s light he complained only of the burning.”

 
          
The
kyo nodded, his sallow features thoughtful. “He spoke of something inside him.
He said he felt unclean.”

 
          
“Surely
he was delirious,” Kedryn replied. “The poison leeched his reason—you said it
yourself.”

 
          
“Aye.”
Tepshen’s mouth curved briefly in approximation of a
smile. “But now I wonder.”

 
          
Kedryn
studied Brannoc. The half-breed appeared to sleep sounder now, but still he twitched,
moaning softly, as though held by some malign dream.

 
          
“You
believe there is truth in his doubt?”

 
          
Tepshen
shrugged.
“Mayhap.
I know little of succubi, but I
think it as well we watch our comrade.”

 
          
Kedryn
stared at the easterner, not wanting to grant credence to his fears, but filled
now with an ugly apprehension.

 
          
“You
think him tainted? Do you say the changeling cut him deeper than his flesh?”

 
          
“I
say only that we be wary,” Tepshen answered carefully. “If he heals as I hope
he will, then my thanks to the Lady. If not ...”

 
          
He
left the sentence hanging unfinished on the night air. Kedryn set a hand to the
talisman, seeing its radiance shine through his flesh, outlining the bones. If
not, he finished in his mind,
then
Ashar has tainted
one of us. Would the Lady allow that? He looked to the moonlit bank, the
nightmare figures standing there stark emphasis of Tepshen’s fears. Can the
Lady prevent it?
he
wondered. Here in this unearthly
place is even her power great enough? He shook his head, seeking to rid himself
of such ugly cobwebs of doubt, and stared at Brannoc.

 
          
Moonlight
played on the dark face, flattening its planes, throwing shadows across the
fever-hollowed sockets of the closed eyes. Brannoc groaned, his lips drawing
back from his teeth. For an instant, as they glinted in the silvery light they
seemed as fangs, bared beneath snarling jowls, and Brannoc’s visage was animal.
Kedryn leaned closer, thrusting out the jewel, and Brannoc whimpered, turning
on his side, raven hair falling across his face with a small tinkling of
shells. Kedryn shook his head, dismissing that momentary impression of
therianthropism, and resumed his stance in the stern.

 
          
He
slept as the dory drifted on, waking when Tepshen prodded him to take his turn
on watch. It was, he judged by the position of the moon, some time after
midnight and they passed a section of forest too dense to permit the
changelings entry, for the darkness was silent, only the gentle lapping of
water against the dory’s shingles disturbing the quiet. Brannoc slept, no
longer moaning, and it was a tranquil scene, the river an inky blue streaked
with bands of silver where moonlight struck the ripples of its passage, the
woodlands ebon, merging with the velvety indigo of the sky, the dory itself encompassed
by the effulgence of the talisman, drifting peacefully within its own calm
nimbus. The current carried them steadily onward, as though the river itself
bent to their purpose, obviating the need for oars or rudder. He touched the
hilt of the great glaive propped beside him, studying the grim death’s-head
shape of the pommel, seeing the curling claws that held it in place. They
appeared separate from the ornamentation, and he thought that Taziel would
easily remove the round of metal and set those claws about the talisman.

 
          
With
that thought in mind he stared ahead, and saw a change in the sky. The indigo
hue brightened there, blue shading into a feint pink as if some unimaginably
huge fire burned far off on the horizon. He blinked, not sure he could believe
the evidence of his eyes, and squinted again into the darkness. Then the river
turned, swinging wide around a jut of forest, and the glow was gone, the timber
receding from the bank so that his attention was once more caught by the
presence of the watchers, waiting along the shore, hatred redolent in their
horrid chorusing. He started as Brannoc stirred, shifting where he lay, as if
summoned from the depths of honest slumber by the howling. He saw the
half-breed turn, almost rising from the thwarts, then falling back, moaning
again, his hair dropping clear of his face so that he seemed once more oddly
lupine.

 
          
Kedryn
clutched the talisman and told himself it was no more than a trick of the light
and his own weariness, and did his best to ignore the unearthly stridency. It
was not easy, for the therianthropes lining the banks seemed more numerous,
their caterwauling more insistent, and it seemed to disturb Brannoc more.
Several times Kedryn moved to still the half-breed as he twisted on his
makeshift bed, hands with hooked fingers lifting to flail at the sky, his lips
drawn back from his teeth as if he fought for breath, or snarled, though only a
strangled moaning emerged. Once, his eyes opened and Kedryn saw the hazel orbs
yellowed, like a cat’s but they closed quickly and he could not be certain of
the impression, deeming it a trick of the moonlight, for the alternative
suspicion was too unpleasant to entertain. He was thankful when dawn
transformed the horizon to a pearly opalescence that shaded to pink, then gold
as the sun rose, night’s indigo paling to azure, and Tepshen woke.