Chapter 17
The Stranger
The three trudged along through the darkness in ankle-deep snow. Cold, miserable, and hungry, they all wanted to stop and rest, but they had heard the sound of men shouting through the woods. They knew Belarnian patrols were looking for them, but so far it seemed as though they had successfully eluded their pursuers. It had been three hours since they fled Justan’s frozen army, but they were exhausted, and it was hard to tell how long they had been moving. None of them could remember how long they had been running from their hunters, but it seemed like an eternity. Garin was the first to see the twinkling light through the trees.
“Wait,” he whispered urgently. “There’s a light ahead. It might be an enemy camp.” Mikhal climbed a small rise to inspect the area.
“No. It looks like a single campfire.” He looked for a way around the light. “But just to make sure, we should skirt the area so that we’re not seen.”
Kristian was reluctant to speak to Mikhal. The two had not spoken to each other since their fight, and the prince was determined to not provoke the cavalier, but they were all exhausted.
“I understand our situation. We should keep moving and forget about the fire, but … maybe it’s someone who could help us.” He could feel the anger swelling within the cavalry officer already.
“Oh, thank God you said it first, Your Highness,” Garin exclaimed. “I’m frozen and exhausted. I was afraid to be the first to say it, though.” He looked pleadingly at Mikhal. “Sir, we’ve been on the move for over a day now. We’re frozen. Our clothes are soaked from sweat. And I can’t feel my feet.” Mikhal looked back toward the fire again.
Kristian added hopefully, “Maybe there’s food and water.” Mikhal did not lash out like Kristian expected.
Instead, Mikhal thought hard about the prince’s words before answering. “Here’s what I’m thinking. You’re right that we need rest and warmth. We have been through more than anyone should be expected to face in a lifetime, but we are still in Ferral’s lands. Even if that fire does not belong to one of his soldiers and we are lucky enough to get some comfort and escape again before the Belarnians find us, they will certainly find this place and torture the person it belongs to … just to get information on us. For our safety, as well as that of anyone who is down there, we should just keep going.” He looked at Garin. “What do you think, Garin?”
The young soldier lowered his head in disappointment. “Sir, I will do whatever you say.”
“No,” Mikhal said immediately, “there are only the three of us, now. We must all agree on any decision, and it should be based on all of our feelings.” He looked expectantly toward the soldier.
There was an unexpected gleam in Garin’s eyes. “Thank you,” he replied quietly. Kristian suddenly realized how much the younger soldier admired Mikhal; Garin would do anything for him. Kristian also remembered how he had wished others would look at him the same way. That would never happen now.
“The truth is that I am close to falling over,” Garin offered. “I am not going to make it much further. I think a couple of fingers and toes are useless; I can’t feel them anymore. And if I am needed at some point to help fight, then I need to rest.” Pointing at the fire he added, “If the Belarnians see this fire, they will likely torture the person anyway, even if we don’t stop. We should take advantage of this opportunity … it may be a long time before we get a chance like this again.”
Mikhal waited a moment before nodding. They decided it would be better to look at the campsite more before just walking out into the open. Garin and Mikhal crept around the opening in the trees in opposite directions while Kristian stayed at their original location. They made as little sound as they possibly could, but their fatigue made it very difficult to maintain any stealth. All three had stopped breathing when Garin accidentally snapped a dead twig under his foot.
The three began to relax a little when no signs of alarm were raised by the loud sound in the night. When the two returned to Kristian, they reported what they saw.
“Nothing … I could not see anyone around the fire.” Garin was puzzled. Why would anyone make a fire and leave it unattended, especially in this terrible weather?
Kristian asked what they were all thinking, “Where do you think ….”
“I’m right here,” a soft whisper responded from behind them. They spun around, reaching for their weapons.
“Stop,” the voice hissed. “If I had wanted to kill you, I would have done it when I first heard you wandering around like cattle.” The three still held onto the hilts of their swords, unsure of what was happening.
“If you had tried to kill us, you would have found that our horns are shaper than most of the other cows,” Mikhal responded threateningly.
“Perhaps,” the stranger chuckled, still hidden somewhere in the trees nearby. He finally moved out of his crouched position in the darkness and slowly approached them. They could see little of the man in the darkness. He was of average height and build and did not look overly dangerous.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Kristian demanded.
“I have more right to ask that question than you. Weren’t you trying to spy on me?” The hooded man looked at each of them. “On any account, I mean you no harm. It’s easy to tell that you are in need of some comfort. I’ll share whatever I have in exchange for the latest news.”
The three finally relaxed after hearing him promise food and warmth. “We’re lost merchants from a caravan that was raided on the road near here yesterday,” Mikhal offered to the stranger.
“You’re nowhere near any road,” the man replied.
Kristian added, “We’ve been running for our lives, afraid the raiders might come after us. We haven’t even stopped to see if they are still following us.”
The black-cloaked man cocked his head to the side as if he found it hard to believe the incredible story. At last, he shrugged and said, “I don’t care what happened.” He waved his hand, indicating the woods around them. “No matter what your story, the Belarnian patrols have already been through the area. I don’t think they will return before sunrise.”
“You’ve seen the patrols,” Garin blurted out. Mikhal nudged him as a reminder not to give anything away about their true situation.
“Don’t worry. I like the Belarnians little more than you obviously do.” The stranger could tell he had hit a nerve with that last comment and quickly changed the subject. “Come down and warm yourselves. I have extra water and some dried food. You are welcome to your share.” He motioned for them to follow as he started down toward the fire.
“I’m sorry I gave us away earlier,” Garin apologized. They all started walking behind the stranger toward the fire.
“The twig didn’t give you away, friend.” The stranger called back. “Breaking branches is a common sound in the woods. Many animals snap twigs, and old trees drop dead limbs all the time. It was your whispering at the very beginning that alerted me.” He turned back toward the three as they arrived at the fire.
“Only humans would start talking when an animal could communicate with just a look.” Mikhal and Garin both raised their eyebrows at the wood lore their new companion seemed to know.
They looked around one final time for signs of danger before they gave into their exhaustion and fell to the ground beside the fire. There was a lean-to made of fallen limbs and bows of pine nearby. A layer of snow was piled on top of the shelter to keep the fire’s heat close to the ground.
“Thank God for this little mercy,” Garin exclaimed in relief as he took a cup of warm soup from the stranger. The young soldier smiled as he sipped the broth, staring at the blaze in front of him.
The stranger sat in dark contemplation as the three relaxed on blankets, letting the warmth of the fire carry them away from their worries. For over an hour, the man said hardly anything to them. He mentioned once that the weather in the mountains to the west was much worse. That was all he said. Kristian began to wonder whe
ther it was safe to really trust this stranger, but soon his fatigue got the better of him, and he fell into a deep sleep.
It could only have been a few minutes later, he thought, when he was rudely awakened. Kristian, still groggy, had forgotten about their predicament and looked around the fire, confused by the sudden activity. “What is it? Where am I?” He vaguely saw Mikhal’s face illuminated by the glow of the fire.
“The stranger is gone,” Mikhal said, scanning the darkness past the campsite. He looked into the woods, wondering what their new companion might be up to. “He didn’t say anything. He just got up and walked off.”
It all came back to Kristian, their flight through the woods at night, his fight with Mikhal amongst Justan’s fallen army, fleeing from the dead … the horrible night when Ferral changed Kristian’s world forever.
He sighed in despair. “Maybe he’s just looking for more firewood,” Kristian suggested. He was a little annoyed at being awakened so soon. “Besides I am so tired right now I could care less. I’m going to need more than a few minutes sleep if we’re going to continue all the way back to Erand on foot.”
Mikhal was unmoved. “That’s something only a prince could say. You’ve been snoring for the last three hours. Don’t whine to me about not getting enough sleep.” Kristian grimaced surprised at how long he had slept. He hadn’t moved a muscle, could he really have slept that long?
“Someone is coming,” Garin whispered urgently.
“Get up,” Mikhal ordered Kristian as he moved away from the fire, sword in hand.
Kristian stood slowly trying to stretch out the soreness in his back. Soon, he also heard the sound of hooves in the distance and moved with more haste. Worried, he strapped on his sword belt and turned toward the sound.
The sound turned to rolling thunder as a Belarnian scout crashed through a thicket into the campsite. Reigning in his horse, the lead soldier seemed surprised to have finally found the three fugitives. He grinned as he pulled up a horn that was hanging from his neck and blew a single high note. He let go of the horn and pulled free a wicked-looking hatchet. It was curved and spiked and looked well used. The scout backed his horse away from Mikhal and Garin to keep them centered.
Five more mounted Belarnians quickly entered the clearing and fell in with the lead scout. They laughed to each other, looking forward to the reward they would receive for taking back the three bodies as proof of their deeds. They pulled out their weapons and adjusted their helmets as they confidently prepared to attack.
“This is a lucky night,” one of them exclaimed, grinning fiercely. “Good luck for us, at least,” he added, jokingly.
Suddenly, there was a blur of movement behind them. A black shape jumped out of the trees and passed by the arrogant soldiers, the stranger’s sword moving silently through one of the riders. The man landed softly on the ground, rolling under their reach. As the black-cloaked apparition stood and faced the Belarnians, the one who had praised their good fortune fell from his horse. A gash across the back of his neck had severed his spinal cord. He lay motionless on the ground.
The remaining patrol members did not wait for the stranger to attack again. They charged, leaning forward in their saddles and holding their weapons high. The sudden flurry of activity confused the weary men. Kristian stood his ground, hoping to stay where he could see his attackers better but none came directly at him.
He saw their new companion run at the nearest attacker holding a two-handed, slender sword high over his head. Quicker than Kristian could follow, the stranger stepped away from the downward blow of the mounted Belarnian and used his own blade to knock the soldier from his saddle. He then moved swiftly over to finish the scout.
Kristian also saw attackers move to strike Mikhal and Garin. They blocked the blows of their adversaries using what little strength they had left. With each exchange of steel they were forced back further and further away from the center of the clearing. Kristian uprooted himself from where he stood and ran to join them.
As he moved across the clearing, he saw a flash of steel. He looked to his right and saw another scout charging toward him with his sword pointing forward ready to strike. The mounted soldier shouted in excitement, gathering speed. Kristian tensed, waiting for the attack and hoping to dodge the charger and foe, but before the man even got to him, he fell from his horse and landed on the ground with a loud thud. Kristian once again saw the black-clad stranger standing behind where the horse had been and knew the man had somehow managed to save him.
Kristian forced himself out of his crouch and sprinted off toward his companions. Mikhal was now managing to force his opponent back even though the Belarnian was mounted high above him. His skill at fighting and his own anger allowed him to get past the futile swings of his enemy. The young officer was finally able to strike a blow when the other was unable to control his horse. As he struggled to pull it back into the fight, Mikhal thrust upward with his sword. The blade found a seam in the armor and slipped into the Belarnian’s side.
Garin was worse off. The little strength he had regained quickly left him. He twisted his ankle on a loose rock and fell heavily. His enemy moved in for the kill even as Garin was trying to pull himself back up.
Kristian screamed in fury. He rushed up to the Belarnian, swinging his sword downward. The man cried in pain and shock as his sword arm fell to his side severely wounded. His misery was short lived. Kristian came back around with the sword and cut him down.
The three Erandians looked around for other attackers, but the last member of the patrol moved away from them. He spurred his horse on, trying to get away, but was unable to escape the reach of the stranger’s sword. The first scout to find the campsite was the last to fall.
The Erandians found each other and quickly asked one another if they were injured. Seeing they had all escaped serious injury, they turned their heads in disbelief toward the stranger. The man cleaned his blade with a small cloth and replaced the weapon somewhere within the folds of his cloak. He moved to the fire and added another log.
“That’s all of them. They’ve been combing this area for over an hour. When they finally found the fire and approached, I went to check on them.” He sat down on a log near the fire. “You’re safe again.”
The three slowly walked back to the fire, keeping their eyes on the stranger. No one could move faster than this man did, they all thought. They sat down across from him staring in amazement.
The man in black finally pulled back his hood and scarf, letting the fire warm his skin. The Erandians immediately noticed the scars that ran across the man’s face. Three pink scars ran down from his right temple across his cheek and ended at his chin.
He saw them staring at his face and turned away for a moment. Realizing that hiding his face solved nothing, he shrugged and faced them again.
He ran a hand through his short brown hair, shaking out the ice and said, “My name is Cairn.” That was the only new thing he was prepared to tell them about himself. They waited impatiently for more clues, but he was not forthcoming about any further details; Cairn just sat there, quietly lost in his own concerns.