person in the Mistyvales.”
He smiled, embarrassed, slightly guilty, and she
continued.
“You were right all along. I heard about what my
father said to you. I’m so sorry. I know what he did was wrong, but I don’t
want you to hate him. Can you forgive him?”
Aedan nodded. For her sake he would try.
“You’re not a coward,” she said. “Not to me, not
to anyone who knows you.”
In the rush of preparations he had managed to
escape that awful thought, but her words brought it back, in spite of her kind
intentions. “I know … I know you don’t think I am. But everyone who saw … me …
saw what happened … they will.”
“I think they will see you as a hero when they
discover what you have been doing.” She took his arm in hers and they looked
out into the fire-lit clearing.
When the broth was cooked up, the slavers served themselves
using wooden bowls. Each captive was given half a potato and a sip from a
waterskin passed down the line. The slavers began to sprawl out on the ground
as others removed the cooking pots and built up the fire.
Aedan and Kalry watched.
For some time nothing happened, but gradually the
thicker logs succumbed to the heat and added to the blaze. The vine dangled
idly in the air currents, but Aedan knew from experience how hot it would be up
there. The flames did not reach, but the heat did. It happened quickly.
First there was a bright glow that popped into a
young flame, and then the flame began to climb. The more it climbed the hotter
it grew and the faster it moved. Someone shouted and men stood to their feet,
pointing. Suddenly Quin appeared and began bellowing orders. Clubs and stones
were thrown, but to no avail. Several men, with much confusion, formed
themselves into a hasty tower and hoisted one of their comrades as high as the
lower branch where he scrambled, slipped, and fell to the ground, landing on
his back with a jarring thud. He remained where he fell.
It was too late. The mass of knotted creepers had
begun to burn with a bright yellow glare. Leaping spears of fire lunged upwards
and branches caught the blaze. The flames climbed steadily through the boughs
until half of the tree was crackling and humming in a fire that pierced the
forest roof and lit the ground like daylight.
“That should draw them,” Aedan said with
satisfaction. It was working far better than he had expected.
The slavers, in spite of the tragedy, appeared
exhausted and flopped to the ground, contemplating the blaze from wherever they
lay.
“It looks like the sedative is working too,” said
Kalry. “I think Nulty has some dangerously strong potions. Or maybe these Lekrans
use a lot of salt.”
“I don’t think the smaller pot was salted though,”
said Aedan. “Quin and his two officers don’t seem to be affected.”
One of the branches, as broad as an ox, cracked
and fell with a swelling whoosh. Men rolled to their feet and tottered out of
the way before the impact. The branch struck the ground with a booming crack
and burst with a shower of sparks, throwing several men onto their faces where some
remained, apparently asleep. One had been too slow to react and joined the
ancient tree in its long awaited cremation.
The captives began screaming. Quin, who appeared to
be quite lucid, advanced on them with his knife drawn.
A deep bellow called his attention away. He turned
to see Lanor storm into the clearing, followed by his enraged men. Some of the
slavers reached for weapons, but they were too slow. One managed to get a
crossbow loaded and fired it at Nulty whose clattering arms drew the most
attention. The Lekran could not have chosen more poorly though, as this was the
one man wearing chain mail. The mail took most of the force. Nulty rushed at
his assailant, blocked the desperate swing of the crossbow with his ample shield
and heaved a great agricultural stroke at the man’s leg with an axe. Dark blood
spurted and the Lekran dropped. Nulty tripped and fell on top of
He smiled, embarrassed, slightly guilty, and she
continued.
“You were right all along. I heard about what my
father said to you. I’m so sorry. I know what he did was wrong, but I don’t
want you to hate him. Can you forgive him?”
Aedan nodded. For her sake he would try.
“You’re not a coward,” she said. “Not to me, not
to anyone who knows you.”
In the rush of preparations he had managed to
escape that awful thought, but her words brought it back, in spite of her kind
intentions. “I know … I know you don’t think I am. But everyone who saw … me …
saw what happened … they will.”
“I think they will see you as a hero when they
discover what you have been doing.” She took his arm in hers and they looked
out into the fire-lit clearing.
When the broth was cooked up, the slavers served themselves
using wooden bowls. Each captive was given half a potato and a sip from a
waterskin passed down the line. The slavers began to sprawl out on the ground
as others removed the cooking pots and built up the fire.
Aedan and Kalry watched.
For some time nothing happened, but gradually the
thicker logs succumbed to the heat and added to the blaze. The vine dangled
idly in the air currents, but Aedan knew from experience how hot it would be up
there. The flames did not reach, but the heat did. It happened quickly.
First there was a bright glow that popped into a
young flame, and then the flame began to climb. The more it climbed the hotter
it grew and the faster it moved. Someone shouted and men stood to their feet,
pointing. Suddenly Quin appeared and began bellowing orders. Clubs and stones
were thrown, but to no avail. Several men, with much confusion, formed
themselves into a hasty tower and hoisted one of their comrades as high as the
lower branch where he scrambled, slipped, and fell to the ground, landing on
his back with a jarring thud. He remained where he fell.
It was too late. The mass of knotted creepers had
begun to burn with a bright yellow glare. Leaping spears of fire lunged upwards
and branches caught the blaze. The flames climbed steadily through the boughs
until half of the tree was crackling and humming in a fire that pierced the
forest roof and lit the ground like daylight.
“That should draw them,” Aedan said with
satisfaction. It was working far better than he had expected.
The slavers, in spite of the tragedy, appeared
exhausted and flopped to the ground, contemplating the blaze from wherever they
lay.
“It looks like the sedative is working too,” said
Kalry. “I think Nulty has some dangerously strong potions. Or maybe these Lekrans
use a lot of salt.”
“I don’t think the smaller pot was salted though,”
said Aedan. “Quin and his two officers don’t seem to be affected.”
One of the branches, as broad as an ox, cracked
and fell with a swelling whoosh. Men rolled to their feet and tottered out of
the way before the impact. The branch struck the ground with a booming crack
and burst with a shower of sparks, throwing several men onto their faces where some
remained, apparently asleep. One had been too slow to react and joined the
ancient tree in its long awaited cremation.
The captives began screaming. Quin, who appeared to
be quite lucid, advanced on them with his knife drawn.
A deep bellow called his attention away. He turned
to see Lanor storm into the clearing, followed by his enraged men. Some of the
slavers reached for weapons, but they were too slow. One managed to get a
crossbow loaded and fired it at Nulty whose clattering arms drew the most
attention. The Lekran could not have chosen more poorly though, as this was the
one man wearing chain mail. The mail took most of the force. Nulty rushed at
his assailant, blocked the desperate swing of the crossbow with his ample shield
and heaved a great agricultural stroke at the man’s leg with an axe. Dark blood
spurted and the Lekran dropped. Nulty tripped and fell on top of
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