* * * * *
Dusk was approaching when Jurin brought them to a stop. They had come completely down the backside of the hill by then and had spent the past several hours winding around the base of several other hills in a narrow valley. The hills rose up steeply around them and were blanketed by and immensity of small rocks which had rained down from above to completely cover the ground around them. Higher up large pine trees soared toward the sky. Several of these steep hills formed one after another to create a myriad of narrow and winding canyon paths between them which caused the travelers to feel as though they were trapped between walls enclosing them from all sides.
“We’ll find Wen around here,” Jurin said to them. It took another hour of poking into one small gully after another before Jurin finally seemed to think that they were on the right path. They walked through an especially narrow passage between two steep hills which came to an abrupt dead-end in a small clearing. Large pine trees crowded together and through the darkness they could see a small wooden cottage with a faint light coming from the small window set next to the door.
Jurin motioned for them to remain back while he went to the door and slowly knocked. “Wen,” he said loudly to the closed door, “you home?”
“When aren’t I home,” a voice said from behind them in Adjurian. The group turned suddenly, startled that someone had somehow come up behind them in such a small area, although Bryn wasn’ able to make out the man standing somewhere behind them in the darkness of the narrow canyon.
Jurin walked away from the door and back toward the way they’d come. “Wen, is that you? It’s Jurin.”
“I figured that out when I heard you tramping through these hills hours ago,” the voice answered. “You never did learn how to move silently.”
“I’m still trying,” Jurin replied before turning to motion at the group behind him. “These men were attacked by Zhou’s men. Two are injured, one quite badly.”
“While another two lay dead beside the four you felled.”
“So you were there then?” Jurin asked the darkness.
“I saw.”
“Will you help us, then?”
An old man stepped out of the darkness at that point. “And bring down Zhou’s wrath on me?”
Jurin didn’t answer. The man looked them over slowly and thoughtfully. He was Jongurian, Bryn could tell from his slanting eyes. At first Bryn thought the man must be in his late-sixties or early-seventies judging by the whiteness of his hair which hung down past his shoulders, but his face also possessed a smoothness indicative of a much younger man. A large white mustache grew between his small nose and lips, the ends of which hung down in long strands well past his chin. He wore dun-colored pants and shirt made of wool with a thicker vest that was darker in color. He didn’t appear to be carrying any weapons at all.
After the man had judged them silently for a few moments he moved over to where Fess was laid out on the stretcher. He was shorter than them all by a good few inches and appeared a little stoop-shouldered, but he moved gracefully, Bryn saw, and he got the impression that the man could be much older than he originally thought, but just as easily much younger.
Fess had been nodding on and off for the past two hours as they moved down and around the hills. The man kneeled down and put his fingers to Fess’s neck to check the heartbeat, then gently unwrapped the bandaging around the leg. He shook his head and stood up to look at Jurin. “He’s lost too much blood already. I don’t think he’ll make it through the night.”
Jurin nodded, but Pader spoke up.
“There must be something that you can do for him,” he said loudly, pressing around the others to stand in front of the man.
“If I could I’d go back and tell him not to have let his leg get cut,” the short Jongurian replied straight-faced.
“Do you make light of us then?” Pader said angrily, thinking that he was being made fun of.
“Not at all. You men are far from home and in a lot of danger. There’s no humor in that at all.”
“There’s nothing you can do for him?” Halam asked in a more conciliatory tone.
The man shook his head. “If you would have made it here a few hours ago and I sewed up the wound, there may have been a chance, but then he would have had to stay here and rest for several days. From what I saw this afternoon, you don’t have that much time.”
“So you saw those men attack us then, but did nothing?” Iago asked.
“Did nothing? No. I watched, and waited. Jurin was nearby, and he’s always had a soft spot for those in trouble. Besides,” he said, spreading his arms down around him in a sweeping motion, “I’m unarmed, what help could I possibly be.”
Jurin scoffed but said nothing.
“Is there no help that you can give us then?” Halam asked.
“I can fill your water skins and give you a bit of food. That shoulder could use some looking at,” he said, pointing toward Pader. “But other than that, no, I don’t think I can help you much. You men are already dead.”
“What do you mean by that?” Willem asked, but the man was already moving between them and toward the cottage. He stepped through the door, leaving it open behind him. Willem began to move quickly after him but Jurin caught his arm.
“No,” he said, looking into Willem’s eyes. He turned to look at Pader. “We’ll get that arm stitched up,” he said, then turned to Jal and Conn. “Bring your friend inside; there may be something we can do for him yet. The rest of you, find a comfortable spot to rest outside. There’s a small spring that flows down those rocks behind the cottage, and I’ll bring some food out in a bit.” He motioned with his arm for Pader to come with him inside, and Jal and Conn picked up the stretcher and followed behind.
Bryn looked up at Halam after the door closed. “It looks like we’re still on our own, uncle.”
“Aye lad, that it does,” Halam said as he tousled Bryn’s hair. “But don’t you worry about it, we’ll be just fine. Use tonight to get some sleep and we’ll start out west again in the morning.”
“Will we do like Jurin says and head to Waigo?” Bryn asked.
“We’ll head in that direction, aye. Whether we go into the city or not, I’m not sure. I think we still need to talk that one over between us all.”
The men sprawled out onto the grass beside the cottage for some much-needed rest. Bryn and Trey walked around collecting all of the water skins and filled them from the bubbling spring that flowed down between the rocks of the hill. Behind the cottage was a small pen with a couple of goats and chickens grazing quietly. A few rows of vegetables were planted a few feet away, and Bryn could make out a few tomato plants growing tall in the darkness. After a time Pader, Jal, and Conn came out of the cottage. Pader no longer had the bloody cloth around his arm where the arrow had entered. Jurin or Wen had sewn up the hole and now a small line of thread around the red and puffed up skin was all that marked the wound. Jal and Conn carried a handful of apples and some cheese to them, laying it out on the ground around them where it was soon eaten up by the hungry men.
“So he helped with your arm at least,” Iago said between bites of apple.
“He did that much,” Pader replied. “I was finally able to convince him to sew up Fess’s leg as well, but he still insists that it won’t do any good. Says the blood loss is just too great, and I think Jurin agrees with him.”
“We should be grateful that he’s doing that much,” Halam said. “It’s a great risk for him to aid us. This man Zhou that is after us doesn’t sound like the type to ignore something like that. If he learns about the help we received here, this man will be hunted down the same as us.”
“I have a feeling this man is more than he seems,” Willem said. “A man his age living alone out here in an area that sees marauding rebels? I think he can take care of himself better than any of us think.”
“You got a good look at him inside that cottage, Pader” Iago said, “what does he look like?”
??
?Well, he’s an old man,” Pader replied. “But he moves quickly. There was no shake to his fingers when he stitched me up, as I’d expect from a man his age.” He paused for a second and looked up at the night sky. “I thought that I’d be able to tell more about him in the light, but I couldn’t. He looks old but seems young at the same time. There are no lines on his face as I’d expect from a man with hair as white as his, and yet his hands are gnarled with age, but also quite strong. While he walks and sits with a stoop in his shoulders, he bent down over Fess with no trouble at all.”
“So he’s more than he appears,” Rodden said.
Pader said nothing, just looked around at the rest of them and they were each left alone to puzzle out their thoughts as to the mysterious man that they’d just met. After a while longer the light inside the cottage went out and Jurin came outside and sat down next to them on the grass.
“Fess will stay inside tonight, but I don’t think he’ll improve any. He’s asleep now, but Wen doesn’t think he’ll wake up in the morning.” He looked around at them. “How are the rest of you holding up?”
“As good as can be expected, I suppose,” Rodden answered.
“Aye, it’s been a trying day, best to get some sleep. We’ll have a long trek ahead of us tomorrow.”
The men spread out and tried to find as comfortable a spot as they could. Bryn took a spot next to Jurin.
“Who is this man Wen?” he asked when they lay down.
“I’ve asked myself that question many times over the years, lad,” Jurin answered. “I’ve known him for ten years now but he’s still as mysterious to me as he probably appears to you now.”
“How did you meet him?”
“That is a long story and would best be told after you’ve gotten some rest.”
“I’m not tired,” Bryn lied, turning to lie on his side and face Jurin.
Seeing that the boy wouldn’t take no for an answer, Jurin let out a deep breath and stared up at the stars for a few moments before speaking.
“After the peace was concluded, the soldiers at Bindao boarded ships for the voyage back to Adjuria. Most were excited and couldn’t wait to get back, but I felt apprehensive about it. There was nothing for me to head back to. I had no family to speak of and no prospects. Most likely I’d trade the squalor of the battlements for the squalor of the city streets. So I decided to stay in Jonguria. In the confusion of the turnover it was easy to don a dirty cloak and blend in with the Jongurians spilling into the city. I hid out until most of the soldiers had departed, then I too left the city, although by the back gates, not the docks. I had no idea where I would go or what I would do, so I headed toward the forests and the hills.”
“Much of the countryside surrounding Bindao had been devastated by the war. No attacks had taken place here, but the landscape was stripped of anything that could supply the armies camped around the city. Death and starvation were everywhere. To compound matters, the soldiers that had laid siege to the city decided for the most part not to go back to their homes and rebuild. This is when the various rebel groups began to form. They were small at first, just a few bands of formers soldiers who chose the easy life of plunder over the more rigorous task of farming. As they rode around terrorizing the land, their numbers swelled, primarily from the dispossessed that their actions, as well as the war, had created. When I first took to the wilderness after leaving Bindao I had plenty from hunting and fishing to keep me satisfied, and lived well for more than a year. With the swelling number of refugees from rebel raids, however, I soon found myself competing with peasants. The forests began to fill with wandering common folk. The emperor did nothing to help them; he was embroiled in his own struggles around the capital and couldn’t pull his attention away to focus on the problems in the south. It wasn’t long before my presence became known.”
“Soon the rebels began to tire of just tormenting the peasants on their farms and turned on those that had fled into the forests and hills. When it was learned that an Adjurian soldier had taken refuge in this same area, the rebels couldn’t hunt me down fast enough. The attack came one day while I was fishing along the Dongshui River. Out of nowhere I was struck in the back by an arrow, which had been delivered with such force that it punched all the way through my side before coming to a bloody rest on the ground before me. More began to rain down around me, so I fled. I was no match for the men on their horses though, and they soon ran me down. I knew little of the Jongurian tongue at that time, so whatever questions they asked of me I couldn’t understand. The leader of their small group ran me through with his sword and tossed my body into the river.”
“Somehow I managed to stay alive and after several miles of floating down the churning river was able to pull myself out onto the bank. I had two holes completely through me at that point so I found a spot that seemed nice and lay down to die. It didn’t take long for my eyes to close and the darkness to take me. Much to my surprise I awoke to find a Jongurian crouching over me and tending to my wounds. The blood loss had been great enough that I passed out, but not enough to kill me. He spoke Adjurian and told me to lie back, which I did, passing out again. The next I awoke I was in a small cottage and heavily bandaged.”
“Right here,” Bryn said anxiously.
“Aye. The man that found me was Wen. He spent the next couple of weeks keeping a close eye on me as I recovered. If he’d not happened upon me on that riverbank when he did I’d surely have died of my wounds. I asked him many times why he chose to help me that day, but he has never yet given me a clear answer. When I was strong enough to head back to the forests, he urged me to go back home to Adjuria. ‘The country had become too dangerous since the war, even for its own citizens’, he told me, ‘and especially for a foreigner.’ I didn’t take his advice and was soon hunting and fishing in the same spots as before. It wasn’t long for roving bands of rebels to find me again. This time I was able to hear them coming. There were four of them armed with shortswords and bows, while all I had was a bow and a dagger. In all of the years that I was stationed at Bindao I saw little fighting, since that was the nature of a siege, and had no formal training before the war. Needless to say, those rebels made short work of me, slashing my throat after they had driven their swords into me several times.”
“So that is how you got that scar,” Bryn said, holding his hand up to his own throat.
“And many more besides it,” Jurin answered. The night was growing cool and the moon had moved quite a ways through the sky, but still Jurin continued his tale.
“Again I was left for dead but somehow survived, and again Wen found me and nursed me back to health. He didn’t seem at all surprised or angry that the same fate had befallen me. I quickly found that Wen was a man of few words. Where he learned Adjurian, I still do not know, and even though he can communicate with a foreigner, he doesn’t do so very often.”
“When I was healed up for a second time and ready to depart, Wen stopped me. He told me that I would be attacked again, if not in a week or a month then in a year, for as long as I continued to stay in this land. I wouldn't be so lucky to have him find me again, he made it clear. ‘Don’t worry, I can take care of myself,’ I assured him. ‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ he replied. As I smiled and turned to walk away he blocked my path with a long stick. When I tried to walk around he brought it down on my other side. I chuckled, and turned to walk another way, but each way that I turned he was blocking my path with that stick. Growing tired of this childish game, I went to grab the stick, but faster than I thought it possible for a man his age to move he had brought the stick out of my reach and down on my back, knocking me to the ground. I angrily got up and lunged at him to take the stick, but he effortlessly blocked my feeble attempts with barely more than a flick of his wrist. As I was knocked down again I noticed bruises forming on my arms and legs, and some of my fresh wounds had come open, staining my shirt red. Wen told me that if I was so ready to die than I could leave now, but if I wanted to survive in
this land than I needed to stay. That was the day that my training began.”
“What did he teach you,” Bryn said excitedly, barely able to wait for the story to continue.
“I think that’s enough for tonight, lad,” Jurin replied. “We’ve already been talking for far too long when what our bodies really need is sleep.”
“But I’m not tired,” Bryn argued as he stifled a yawn.
“You will be in the morning,” Jurin said as he rolled over on his side, ending the discussion.
Bryn lay down on his back looking up at the stars while in his mind he imagined the old man inside the cottage thrusting a stick back-and-forth at the Jongurians they fought earlier in the day, defeating all of them without so much as breaking a sweat. He smiled and soon drifted off to sleep.