Slumber (27 page)

But they weren’t here.

As the present came back to me, my situation had worsened. I was flat on my back on the palet, the Mountain Man stil straddling me. My shirt had been ripped completely open by the knife in his hands. I was covered in little shalow cuts.

I gave a garbled cry and swung at his head with my hands, a weak hit, but enough to give me a moment to summon my energy. I bucked under him, trying to throw him off. I swung at him again, causing him to jerk away, giving me the momentum I needed to shake him off. I screamed like a banshee the entire time, using it to draw my adrenaline into usefulness.

The Mountain Man roared back at me and clambered over me, the knifeless fist swooping down and connecting with my face. I felt blood gush out of my nose, my eyes watering, and I fought down more vomit. He used my disorientation to unbutton my trousers.

“No, no,” I mumbled, tasting the bitter copper of my blood. I shook my head. No. I began to hyperventilate as his body drew flush with mine, his face hovering above me with lascivious eyes and a lusty grin. I threw up again.

It didn’t discourage him.

I heard the clatter of the knife as he threw it away and one hand pressed my head, left cheek down, into the palet. I imagined it was to keep the vomit off him. He tried to tug my trousers off. I felt my eyes rol back in my head.

The Mountain Man flinched, a startled cry faling from his mouth. I looked up out of the corner of my eye and saw him staring straight ahead at the wal, his eyes wide. He snarled and roled off of me and my own eyes widened at the sight of an arrow sticking out of his back. I threw my tied hands out and dragged my body away from him, gasping at the vision of a man, cast in the shadow of the doorway, a huge machete clutched in his hands. Beside him stood a girl. Young. Perhaps Haydyn’s age. She held a crossbow pointed at the Mountain Man. I watched in a stupor of horror and hope as the Mountain Man lunged to his feet to attack the intruders. The girl let another arrow fly with expertise and calm. Mountain Man staggered back as the girl immediately armed the crossbow with another arrow. The man beside her laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, holding her off.

I wanted to complain. To tel her to shoot. Mountain man was stil standing. But as I watched Mountain Man, I noticed his face go slack. Pale. And then his eyes roled back in his head. He colapsed with an almighty thud.

“This her?” the man at the doorway asked softly, nodding at me.

“Stupid question, papa. Course it’s her,” the girl answered lazily, as if she were encountering an everyday situation.

I slid away from them. I couldn’t trust anyone here.

The man nodded grimly and moved tentatively towards me, making me shimmy back further. I hit the wal again and glowered at him. He stopped, and as my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw his face. He appeared upset. Concerned. “I’m not goin’ to hurt ye, little one. I’m goin’ to untie those ropes for ye, so ye can be gettin’ yerself together.”

My heart beat unsteadily as I glanced between the two strangers. I so needed to believe them. “Who are you? What did you do to him? Don’t come near me!” I screeched as he edged closer.

He sighed heavily and the girl huffed, “Wel that be a grateful response. We isn’t goin’ to hurt ye!” She shook her head. “Papa, she’s as soft as goat’s cheese. No wonder she be landin’ in this mess and causin’ a rumpus!”

I blinked in confusion, stil dazed from my beating. Who was this girl? This man?

“L, be nice,” the man admonished softly. “Help the poor girl, wil ye. She’s been through what ye like to cal an
ordeeul
.”
An ordeal?!
I wanted to scream.
An ordeal?!
Being kidnapped by the Iavia, running from rookery thugs, that was an ordeal! This… I shook my head. I looked back over at the Mountain Man and then back at the two people who had attacked him. Had they realy saved me? Why?

The girl - L, her father had caled her - sighed. “Look here, Rogan, we isn’t goin’ to hurt ye. We’re rescuing ye from Crazy here. My arrow was tipped in a poison he won’t be comin’ back from. Bugger won’t be hurtin’ no one again.” She curled her lip in disgust at the Mountain Man.

I was barely listening. I had stiffened in surprise. “How do you my name?”

The man sighed now. “My girl is one o’ the blessed. A mage. She’s got the Sight.”

“A Glava?” I raised my eyebrows incredulously at her.

“That be me,” L huffed. “I felt yer terror. So papa and I set out to rescue ye. Now… ye goin’ to repay our kindness by no’ takin’ a fit o’ the vapours as we untie ye?”

There was something genuine about the girl’s gruffness and her father’s gentleness. Relief crashed over me and I began to shake uncontrolably. Tears glittered in my eyes but I fought them back, noticing L watched me carefuly. “Of course,” I managed, relaxing somewhat.

The man reached for me slowly and gently cut the ropes around my wrist.

He hissed at the mess. They were red and bleeding, skin shredded off entirely in places. I imagined, overal, I wasn’t a pretty sight, covered in blood, bruises and vomit. Not to mention my trousers stil stank of fear. “Ma wil have to be puttin’ some o’ her special medicine on to be sortin’ that mess out.” I didn’t argue. I couldn’t continue on in my journey without getting cleaned up and hopefuly fed. When he had cut the rope from my ankles, which were in much the same condition as my wrists, I numbly refastened my trousers and tried to pul the shirt together. L stiled my hands, briskly puling off her jacket and tugging me into it.

She buttoned it for me. Up close now I could see her eyes. A multitude of emotion lived in them. She wasn’t as unaffected by the state she’d found me in as she’d like me to believe. I stumbled forward on my blistered feet and L exhaled again, throwing her father a look. “Ma wil need to be sortin’ her feet out too if this one is to be gettin’ to the Pool.”

It took me a moment, as L and her father reached to help me out of the shack, their arms around me as I hobbled along with them, that L’s comment meant she knew who I was and why I was here.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked wearily, as we wandered into the woods. I numbed myself to the pain, only focusing on my relief.

L’s father answered, “Back to our home so ye can get cleaned up. I’m Jonas, by the way.”

“Helo, Jonas. Thank you for rescuing me.”

L coughed.

“You too, L.”

After a moment of silence the numbness and overwhelming relief gave way to a need for answers, for more reassurance. “Where is your home? What else do you know, L? Is it-”

“Questions later, Lady Rogan,” L sniffed. “Let’s just be gettin’ the blazes out o’ here.” I obliged her, not once looking back.

L and Jonas took me back onto the trail path and my magic hummed contentedly as we headed in the right direction. I hobbled between them a while, little whimpers and grunts escaping out of me at the pain.

“We be headin’ near the outskirts of Shadow Hil,” L whispered abruptly. “Ye need to be keepin’ that pain quiet.” I didn’t reply. I just heeded her warning.

Sometime later, when I heard voices way off in the distance, I guessed we were at Shadow Hil. Jonas and L had grown tense beside me and were walking almost tentatively. I could tel they were worried I’d somehow give them a way, but after what I’d just gone through, I had no intention of putting myself in a position to be abused again.

There was a horrible moment when we heard the woods crashing to our right; the whips and rustles of trees and plants, the hard thud of a heavy foot in the soil. My rescuers looked at each other wide-eyed and then quickly pushed me behind a thick tree trunk, warning me with their eyes to stay there. They scurried off to find a tree each to hide behind. I didn’t dare look behind me, or peer around the tree. My heart
thud thud thumped
in my chest as I heard a man whistling and humming under his breath. I then heard a hissing noise and saw L rol her eyes from her place behind the tree across from me. I think perhaps the man was relieving himself.

After a while the humming and noise of him crashing through the woods faded into the distance and a grinning L came out from behind her tree, Jonas behind her. I glowered at her. I’d never met a girl as cocky as this one. Without a word, they put their arms back around me, helping me, and we set off again.

Half an hour later, quiet tears roled down my face. I was in agony. The back of my head throbbed, my cheeks felt stiff and bruised, as did my mouth. The cut on my lip stung. The rise of my breast throbbed, my wrists felt raw, the pain from the broken skin sharp and nipping. My ankles were the same. I tried not to let my legs get too close together so they didn’t rub off one another. And my feet. They felt shredded and swolen.

I expected L to make a comment on my tears but she just looked at me and picked her pace up a little. I tried to keep up, and as dark fel over us, L and Jonas led me off the trail path into the thick of the woods. Wariness clung to me but I tried to shrug it off. L and Jonas were helping me. I realy believed that. But my body, stil in shock from what had happened, stil regarded everyone with fear and suspicion.

We walked perhaps another hour, this time deviating enough from my magic for it tug at me, like a child puling a friend’s hair in frustration. I didn’t care this time. I needed to rest. Just for a minute. Only a minute.

Finaly a wel-built shack appeared in a tiny clearing in the woods. There was a vegetable garden outside, and a goat tied to the wooden framing of the porch. It was the homeliest looking place I’d seen since venturing into the mountains; like something from a fairytale. As we hobbled up the rough-hewn path, the door to the house burst open, candlelight from inside streaming out to greet us. I almost wept in relief. A woman’s silhouette framed the doorway, a child’s face appearing from behind her skirts.

“Thank haven,” the woman whispered into the night. “I was gettin’ worried.”

“Ma, we need some o’ yer medicine,” L caled out to her as we drew towards the porch. Jonas and L helped me hobble up the steps until I was facing the woman.

Her expression changed instantly as she took me in, her smile disappearing into angry concern.

“Dear haven, what did he do to that child?! Get her in here.” She gestured us inside briskly. It was easy to see who L had inherited her gruffness from.

In I went with them, looking down at the little boy who stared at me in horror. I gazed around in wonder. We were in the sitting room/kitchen of their home. Two rocking chairs sat on either side of a large, glowing fire. I was huddled over to the table that took up most of the room. There were empty plates and cups on it. In the kitchen the smel of stew wafted out to me and my stomach clenched. There were two doors, one at the back and the other on the wal opposite the fire. I gathered it led to their bedrooms. Their home was warm and welcoming and cosy. My body gave way at the relief and I crumpled between Jonas and L, both of them crying out to catch me.

“For havens sakes,” L complained. They picked me up, dragging me over to a seat at the table. I slumped back in it, thankful to be off my feet.

“L, there’s water boiling over the fire. Bring it.” L’s mother scooted into a chair opposite me and smiled softly. “Ye be Rogan, that right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied politely.

Her grin widened. “Ma’am. Ye be hearin’ that L. Perhaps ye can be learnin’ some manners.” L grunted.

“I be Sarah Moss. Ye met L – Elizabeth, but she be preferrin’ L – and my husband Jonas. And that one there.” She nodded warmly at the little boy. “Is Jonas Jnr.

We just be calin’ him Jnr.”

“I’m pleased to meet al of you,” I wheezed out. “You have no idea.” Tears, I couldn’t control, spiled over my lids.

“Aw lass,” Sarah tutted. She turned to L, who had placed the hot water before her. I watched through blurry eyes as Sarah roled up a cloth and dipped it into the water. “L, why don’t ye and yer papa make us up some bowls o’ stew, eh?”

L and Jonas did so without complaint.

I, on the other hand, waited warily as Sarah leaned over with the wet cloth and dabbed at the blood on my face. I winced as she touched my bruises. My nose must have been swolen as wel. I was so glad I couldn’t see myself.

For a while al Sarah did was wash away the blood on al my cuts. She drew a deep breath and put the cloth aside. When she turned back to me, it was with only her hands. At the touch of her soft fingertips on my face, my eyes widened at the tingling rush of energy that shot through my nose. My eyes teared as the sweling disappeared, as my cheeks returned to normal, the cut on my lip disappearing. Not a word did I say as she turned those healing hands to al my wounds, even my feet.

Sarah looked exhausted by the time she settled back in her chair. L and Jonas had ladled out the stew and were already busy eating.

“You’re a Dravilec,” I whispered in amazement.

She nodded. I shook my head, glancing between Sarah and L. A Dravilec and a Glava in the same family. L caught my look and seemed to understand. She smirked at me.

“How is that possible?” I asked.

Jonas replied, “I have Glava in my family history. Sarah, Dravilec.”

That realy wasn’t what I meant. What I had meant was that, for a world whose mage were apparently dying out, I’d encountered many of them. Haydyn’s evocation wasn’t the only thing in Phaedra changing. More mage were being born. I chewed my lip. I wondered what this meant.

Of course, the Moss family didn’t know I’d encountered many more like them, so my puzzlement was bemusing for them. I shrugged it off. This wasn’t the time.

At Sarah’s insistence I ate the stew given to me. I ate it slowly, my stomach stil fragile. But as I ate the stew and warm bread, and sipped the apple juice Sarah had made, my body began to shut down in a sudden lassitude, now that it felt safe.

“No, no, Lady Rogan.” Sarah shook me and I was surprised that it didn’t hurt. Of course. She had healed me. I smiled dopily at her. I could have kissed her for that. “We need to get you washed up first.”

Again I was too tired to argue. Sarah shooed the rest of the Moss’ from the room and set about undressing me. I let her wash me, as my own mother had done years before, too exhausted to be embarrassed. She was gentle with me, even rinsing my hair out and plaiting it into a coil on my head. At last she puled one of her own clean, soft, cotton nightgowns over my head, and taking me by the hand she led me into the room at the back of the house. It was smal, with two single beds and a chest of drawers opposite them. Floral curtains were puled across the window. In the bed closest to the door, lay Jnr, already fast asleep. In the other bed was L. She sat up in cotton longjohns (it didn’t surprise me she didn’t wear a nightgown to bed), the bedcovers puled back.