Chapter 28
Here in the Twilight
The six legs of the ladybug moved in unison across the leaf. They carried the red bug to the base of the foliage where it joined with the stem. Tiny white aphids worked there in the axil, sucking sweet juices from the plant and creating sugar the ants would harvest. The ladybug feasted on the succulent aphids until a robin swooped down, snatched it and flew off to feed its young.
The rush of wings pushed a breeze across the face of the dwarf lying on the forest floor nearby. A soft wind entered his air passages and began to awaken his senses. Gentle but persistent prickles inside his nose and throat roused him further. He breathed deeper. The first dry swallow forced him to generate spit.
Another warm breeze flowed across his chest, rushing into his nose and ears. The first sound, the settling of the forest floor as its temperature began to rise in the new day, registered in his senses. All around him, the breeze swirled as if attempting to raise him into the air. The sensation made his eyes twitch, but the burning inside kept them closed.
Prickles in his hands as if they had fallen asleep made the dwarf wiggle his fingers. When he felt a force other than the breeze on his cheek, he tried to swat it, but his arms felt like lead weights. He drew a deeper breath.
Alone and with only the feelings early morning conjured, the dwarf stirred. The soft flush of first light caressed his eyes, and he stared at the branches overhanging his bed. They moved on the breeze. He lifted his hand and drew it down his face as if to wipe away morning dew and cob webs. He lay still, watching and listening to the peacefulness of the forest.
Bronwyn watched a bird fly overhead. He followed its trail through the sky. His eyes settled on his left hand, scratched and dirty. He noticed Farlan’s bracelet, the one he had given him with the expectation of its returned. He stared at the beads, conjuring his friend’s voice from the day he had given it to him: I’ll be spitting mad if you don’t return it.
A small smile teased the corner of his mouth. Farlan always looked for the good, always hoped whilst others frowned.
A sharp pain similar to a pin prick sent Bronwyn’s hand shaking. He swung his head around, looking for the source. Mosquitoes? He slapped one on his arm. But the pain came from the back of his hand and no mosquitoes had sat there. He felt another sharp pain behind his ear, but when he swatted it, found nothing.
He forced himself to a seated position and looked around. The sun still waited below the horizon, but its powerful light began to creep upon the land. Each day the sun is about to rise, I want you to renew yourself. Farlan’s words whispered in his head. Here in the twilight, with the ability to imagine things floating in the dense cyan air, he wondered if fairies did flirt in air passages and poke sleepers with needles. Or was it mosquitoes?
Thoughts of yesterday entered his mind. He rubbed his forehead trying to get them out. If he dwelt on them they’d drag him into the darkness again. If he had lost everything, what had he left to gain by living?
Let it wash away your fears. Farlan spoke to him as if he sat close by. Add doubts to that, Farlan. Doubts were as debilitating as fears. Bronwyn drew in a deep breath of twilight. He tried to release the images, send them into the air to be remembered at another time.
He ran his finger betwixt the bracelet and his skin. He smiled recalling the day Farlan and Isla had crafted the jewellery. She had made one for him, but he told her, Sergeants of the castle don’t wear bracelets. Naturally, his actions disappointed her. She had said, I’ll wear it for you. He wished he had the bracelet now. He’d wear it always.
He remembered the one thing Isla gave him he never went without and pulled the yellow stone from his pocket. Each time he needed patience with her, he had gripped it. Each time he needed a clear head to give Farlan advice, he held it. When he needed courage to ask Alaura for a date, he pressed it into his palm. Now, he needed all those things.
Bronwyn pressed the stone between his hands and felt its warmth. He imagined Isla playing with it whilst he dressed for duty. She smiled at him, winking as if she knew a secret he didn’t. One day when Alaura had almost caught sight of it, he retreated, hiding it behind his back. He didn’t want her to think he believed in good luck charms. She’d been curious and pursued him. It had become a game, and they had stumbled into the pond together. He’d never forget her smiling face as he helped her from the water. Alaura waited for him at Moon Meadow. This thought filled his heart with hope.
The castle had no better healer than Lord Nevell; he’d ensure Bronwyn’s dad survived. Nothing would keep the hardy dwarf from his family. And Farlan? Well, he never gave up. His strength, determination and unorthodox manner would help him arrive at the castle alive.
Alaura faced the charges of unauthorised use of magic within the town walls today. Bronwyn shivered. He couldn’t help her, but Farlan had made a promise. If all else failed, they’d unite, not because of an inner fire, but out of necessity. Either way, Alaura wouldn’t serve three years in the dungeon.
Maybe Lindrum believed he had lost Alaura because of this. If she united with Farlan, everyone would think the same. Bronwyn breathed a sigh of relief. When he returned to Maskil, the union would be dissolved, and he would unite with Alaura.
As long as he lived, there was hope he’d see his family and friends again. He needed only hope to continue his journey.
He stood and stared into the sun kissing the horizon. Within seconds, its brilliant light flooded the land. He closed his eyes and allowed his pores to absorb the energy. It washed over him, warming his skin and raising rough hairs on his chin. A new day had dawned. With it came another chance to live. He would take that and use it until every ounce of light drained from it.
Bronwyn looked around, not knowing where he was. Noting the position of the sun, the trail he’d followed the previous day lay east, into the light. With renewed energy, he walked towards it and soon found the three abandoned horses. He removed the saddles from Garret’s and Rorie’s mounts and threw them in the bush. Thoughts of their death tried to invade, but he pushed them aside. He had to stay focussed. His daughter depended on him. Her only hope of rescue lay with him, and darn it if he’d allow her to think he didn’t do everything within his power to save her.
Scavenging supplies from the discarded saddle bags, he stuffed what he’d need into his. After releasing the horses from their burden, he smacked both in the rump and sent them into the forest to fend for themselves.
He climbed into the saddle and directed his stallion onto the deserted trail. Alone now, he had to use an indirect approach in rescuing his daughter. One against three were poor odds.