Fool's Errand (19 page)

The hairs on the back of Gideon’s neck stood on end. While he was thrilled at the sudden, sympathetic change in the Cyrian at this time of need, Gideon was not sure of the motivation. Even when given an opportunity to reconcile, Garan had always chosen the path of conflict. To see him so desirous to help was unsettling. Could their showing him the patience and kindness of the One Lord finally have begun to soften the veteran’s heart? Gideon dearly hoped so.

“I hear your words, Xyer,” Gideon answered, “and deeply appreciate them. My concern is that even with a two-day ride, some of the men may not make it. Our mission will have failed. Granted we may have little choice, but I do wish to bring this to the One Lord in prayer before we make any decisions. Some of the senior paladins, like my grandfather, have been granted healing
oth
in times of great need. If we can get Duncan back on his feet, he can cure the rest. I do not know if my faith or my experience is strong enough, but I will pray, and if the One Lord is willing, once again we may be delivered.”

The abruptness with which the scowl took over Garan’s face rattled the paladin.

“We need action, and once again, you want to appeal to invisible spirits in the sky for deliverance. Granted I cannot explain the Durgak’s trick of calling water from the rock, but I have seen great
kashaph
worked by wizards. I am not convinced that it was an answer to prayer. You said yourself men are in danger of dying, and every moment you spend talking to the wind puts them all that much closer to death. If that is your choice, then do as you will, but Rarib, Podam, and I will be readying three wagons and loading the others onto them. If you are still wind-talking when we are ready to go, I will leave you to the mercy of your God.”

“Xyer,” Gideon replied, fighting through the growing pain in his gut and mustering patience from somewhere beyond himself. “Goldain will never approve of this course.”

“The northerner is sickest of all,” snapped Garan. “And I thought you two were friends. If you will not abandon your foolishness for your own sake, you should at least do it for his.”

With that, Garan stormed off and began barking orders to the bard and the cook and making preparations to move everyone into the wagons he planned to take.

Gideon dragged his pain-filled body off a ways on his own. After forcing himself to regurgitate the contents of his stomach, he felt slightly better. He went a little further away from the camp, knelt down in the fields, and began to pray. A vision overcame him of Azadriel, leader of the Malakim
and patron to his V’rassi ancestors spoke to him.

“Gideon, your prayer is heard. What boon do you seek from the grace of the One Lord?”

Gideon knelt awestruck for a moment in stunned silence. He prayed regurlarly and often felt in his heart the answers to his prayers as well as seeing them played out in his life. This was the first time, however, that the One Lord had ever granted him a vision or spoken directly to him through any of the Malakim
.

“Are you not Azadriel, patron of the V’rassi?” The angel affirmed that he was. “Then I ask that you grant, from the powers of
oth,
which have been given to you to bestow upon men and the servants of the One Lord, healing for our Durgak priest, Duncan.”

“The Durgak have their own patron. Why does he not inquire himself of Hadaram? As a priest of the One Lord, has the Durgak not healing
oth
of his own? Why do you not seek your own healing and let the Durgak heal himself?”

Gideon felt Azadriel already knew the answers to these questions. The One Lord often taught through questions. Humans, it seems, are often clearer in their minds and hearts when asked to speak their thoughts aloud.

“Blessed Azadriel,” Gideon answered, finding that in the course of his vision his physical discomfort was suspended. “I know my service to the One Lord is not noble. It is the service of the sword. Those who shed blood should not seek
oth
to restore it. But there is no other way. The Durgak is too ill himself to focus in prayer to ask, therefore, I must push through my own sickness to ask in his behalf.”

“So why not seek your own gifts? The others might admire you more, and even make the Durgak’s presence superfluous.”

“I seek nothing for myself,” the paladin continued, “but I deeply fear for the lives of many companions should my petition fail. If it were granted, I would gladly forego my own healing and even give my life if theirs might be spared. Please, Azadriel, bring your agreement with this request to the One Lord, as I know He has already heard my prayers. If it be His will, let this be granted.”

“You have spoken well, Gideon,” the angel replied, his features softening and his face growing a smile that exuded peace and comfort. “Your prayer has already been heard and answered. Go and lay your hands upon the Durgak. Pour your will into him, and he shall be healed. Also because of your selflessness, this
oth
will be given to you as a gift. You may use this power once each day in this same manner, only you may not use it to heal yourself. Should you use the power selfishly, it will function, but the
oth
will be lost to you after that. Go now in service and thankfulness to our One Lord and His mercy.”

When Gideon came out of his vision, he was unsure how much time had passed. As he stumbled back toward the camp, the pain in his stomach had returned, now almost past the point he could bear. If he was the least affected, he could only imagine how badly off the others were.

By the time he reached the camp, Xyer’s preparations were nearly complete. Practically the entire camp had been packed into three wagons, and the three well members of their company were busy loading troopers into the backs of the wagons. Arreya had gone silent, apparently unconscious, and Goldain appeared to be laying torpid in his bedroll. The Durgak was just where Gideon had left him, rocking and moaning. With the Durgak constitution and renowned tolerance for pain, Duncan must truly have been in a bad way to be so affected.

With the last of his focus and strength, Gideon sat beside Duncan and laid his hands upon the priest. He focused and poured his will into his comrade and spoke aloud a short prayer to the One Lord that this
oth
he had been granted would restore Duncan to health. As he felt a great warmth flow through his arms and hands and into the Durgak, Gideon’s world went black.

The sun was setting behind the western peaks when Gideon opened his eyes. The pain in his stomach and disturbance in his bowels was gone, but he felt a weakness like he had never felt before. Duncan was sitting beside his bedroll with a kindly smile peeking out from beneath his ample beard.

“Don’t worry, lad, the weakness is a remnant of the sickness. Your body was fighting it off as best it could but that took a lot out of you. Fortunately, the sturdiness of the Durgak constitution got me through recovery quickly enough, but most of the others are not much better off than you.”

“Are the other’s okay?” asked Gideon, still dazed and confused. “Did the
oth
work?”

“Yes, brother, you were granted an amazing gift. Once you had restored me, you lost consciousness, but I knew immediately what must be done. I used my
oth
on the others, starting with Goldain and Arreya who appeared to have the worst of it. I told Garan that I could cure the rest, but that it would take a little time.”

“So he relented of his plan to evacuate the sick?”

“Hah, what do you think?”

“Yeah, probably not,” Gideon said with a hint of regret.

“He was unwilling to wait and kept loading troopers in the wagons. I knew there might be trouble, so I healed Tropham, Thatcher, Bardrick, and Kohana as quickly as I could. Weakened or not the thought of facing all of us was more than Garan was willing to risk. He reluctantly relented, and throughout the day I was able to cure the rest. I am afraid we will be at least another day before the troopers will be fit enough to march again and at least three before they will be fit enough to fight.”

“But the men are okay, yes? No one has any issues other than weakness and a need of rest?”

“Don’t worry, captain. They are under the care of a Durgak healer. I know my trade. Most of the men are recovering well enough. Cookie prepared a simple broth to restore the men while Melizar and Ohanzee have contributed some pungent herbs, which seem to settle the stomach and strengthen the limbs. Would you like a bowl?”

Gideon twitched at first at the thought of eating anything else prepared by the cook who served them the tainted stew to begin with. At a nod of assurance from Duncan, Gideon assented. The aromatic broth did seem to restore some strength.

“Let everyone know that we will move out at dawn. This side of Stonehold speed now outweighs stealth, so we will have everyone ride in the wagons and drive along the road as fast as we can to make up the day we have lost. Is Goldain well enough to speak?” The Durgak nodded. “Then take me to him right away. We have much to discuss.”

As the caravan leaders discussed Gideon’s desire to press on to Stonehold at all speed, Garan was openly oppositional once again.

“You cannot push weakened and sick men like this, Parynlander. What happens if we meet more raiding parties from the Wild Lands? What if other bandits are marauding among the horsemen of Rajik? Doing anything other than letting these men rest until they are restored is reckless and poor leadership.”

Gideon was at least back on familiar footing with the Cyrian.

“As you well know,” Gideon answered, “the Hobgoblin raiders were decimated by our patrol parties. Besides that they have never ventured this far north. As for other bandits, they could just as well come upon us sitting in a camp beside the road as traveling on it. The men can rest as well in moving wagons as upon cold ground, and most of the drivers are well enough already to resume their duties. With two per wagon, they can take turns resting and driving.”

“This is insanity,” Xyer objected.

“Look,” Gideon continued, ignoring the Cyrian’s objection. “With all the trouble we have seen in just the first three days of this journey, we cannot risk any more delays. It is obvious there are forces working against us, whether natural or supernatural, but with the blessings we have seen from the One Lord thus far, our mission is clearly on the path of right. We will see it through. While I appreciate your concern for the men, this is Goldain’s mission and most of our troops are Tropham’s men. We should hear their counsel.”

“I agree with Captain Gideon,” answered Tropham. “The men will be safer and better cared for in Stonehold, so we should make for the Durgak city as quickly as possible.”

“Well then,” added Goldain, “I guess it is decided. We all three agree that speed now is the best course. So on to Stonehold with best speed.”

Garan shook his head and walked away, mumbling under his breath. He went to his horse and began fitting the barding and preparing for travel. They took the next several hours in short sleeping and watching intervals and rose well before dawn to pack the wagons, load the troops, and get back underway.

Gideon rode up front on wagon one with Tropham, and Goldain took over for Jeslyn as co-driver for wagon four to give the girl more time to recover. Arreya refused to ride, saying she was fine and would continue her scouting duties, as they were more important now than ever. Gideon reluctantly agreed and Arreya bounded ahead as they took to the road just before dawn on the fourth day of their journey. Pushing the mules and without marching troops to slow things down, they reached Stonehold just before sunset on the sixth day without further incidents or issues. Gideon wondered if perhaps their luck was beginning to turn.

Duncan sighed with relief and excitement as he saw the walls of the great city of Stonehold rising up in front of them and barring the pass ahead. Cheers from the caravan expressed the great relief in the hearts of the men and the caravan leaders. What was supposed to be the easiest part of their journey was now over, but if this past week was any indication of what lie ahead, they would all be sorely tested before the end of this mission. Duncan’s booming voice resounded from the fifth wagon shouted a greeting in the Durgak language to the sentries on the wall. The gates, closed with the approach of nightfall, were opened to them. A crowd of Durgak soldiers and civilians rushed out to welcome the caravan. A Durgak officer, dressed in fine mail with a flowing silver beard, forked and braided, came running out, leaping upon the fifth wagon to embrace their priest.