Masters of Fantasy Part 4

Mereth had no blade with her to cut the small captive's bindings, but loosing the throatlatch of Bethelie's cloak, the woman drew the trembling girl into her arms and did what she could to pull the st.u.r.dy length of tightly woven wool about them both.

As she attempted to draw the girl higher in her grasp, the edge of her cloak tangled about one of the thin arms so strictly bound. The villager lurched forward as best she could but was unable to free herself. Twisting in Mereth's tightened hold, she screamed again and managed to near face her captor squarely.

"Evil- Make kill-quick!"

Mereth was in no position to write either question or answer. But at that moment one of the torch bearers, a supporter on either side, retreated near enough that the woman saw- Across the shepherdess's tightly bound arm, stretching as a ghastly fringe along the shoulder was rough, raw flesh-lacking any skin. Immediately Mereth swung the girl from close contact, the better to see the bony back riddled with more vicious patches of exposed flesh, in which was seen embedded bits of torn leaf or dark broken stem.

There was evidence of, not a heavy flogging, but something far more frightening. Mereth shuddered.

She must get the victim to Lormt, where Nalor could employ her healer's skill to ease the child's torment.

The girl writhed, trying to pull herself away from Mereth, though even the slightest movement brought harsh cries of pain from her. While the woman's attempts to hold her closer to prevent further self- inflicted torture only made her screech louder. Without the ability to communicate, Mereth was near as helpless as the bound one. No! No! NO! Her mind battled against the gag nature had laid upon her as she had once before in her life when her younger sister had been cut down before her eyes by an Alisonian during the Kolder War.

"M'Lady!"

The light was stronger. Wessel stood nursing his left arm against his chest as Master Forbie, with whom she had exchanged greetings that morning, lowered closer a torch- "What have we here?" Duratan joined them. "Lady Mereth, how came you here?"

She looked down at the trembling girl who seemed to have suddenly shrunk to little more than a tiny

armful of abraded flesh. As Mereth leaned back against the rock, the torchlight pitilessly revealed more of the blood-oozing body. Wessel uttered a blistering oath while the commander of Lormt's garrison turned to shout, "AID!" over the field where the battling guards and villagers could no longer be seen.

* * * Back at last at Lormt, at a gesture from Nalor, two of the elderly scholars had pushed a table closer to the high blazing fire of the chamber where dried herbs swung on cords anch.o.r.ed well above. Mereth crouched on a stool within close reach of the flames' warmth, nursing a mug of cordial hot enough to be a blessing to her frosted hands.

She watched Nalor whisk a length of bed sheet across the table and Duratan, aided by a guard, stretch the village girl thereupon, face down, the herb mistress at the last moment turning the youngling's head gently to one side. A low swung lamp chained to a beam above the table revealed the child's abused flesh.

To Mereth's astonishment, the ghastly skinless wounds now in full view did not continue clear across the back as would signs of a severe las.h.i.+ng. Instead they could be seen on left shoulder, left arm and left hip; the rest of the skin was bruised but untorn-

Mistress Bethelie, bringing with her a small steaming kettle, folded cloths in a pack under one arm,

appeared beside Lady Nalor as the men left.

Her face was contorted, flushed with anger. "What manner of brutes are these village louts?" she demanded.

Lady Nalor made no answer, but she had opened one of her medicine pouches to take out slender tweezers. Mereth guessed her intention, pulled herself up, setting aside her drink, and twitched one of the cloths from the housekeeper's grasp.

Stretching this flat on her palms, Mereth pushed Bethelie aside to stand at the Herb Mistress's side as, with obvious care, yet swiftly, Nalor began to free the wounds of the bits of stem, matted leaves and portions of blossoms, which clung so tightly to the raw flesh that they seemed to be embedded.

Once she had cleared these all away, she nodded to Mereth, who had immediately clapped one side of the waiting cloth over the other, that nothing escape.

"Feel it?" Nalor asked. Mereth nodded, the cloth pressed tightly between her hands. Feel it, she did. Perhaps not as strongly as did Nalor, who was of the Old Race and had some of the Talent: rage, blistering, concentrated rage-such an emotion as might drive a man into battle with no thought of himself, simply to slay and slay until he, in turn, would be slain.

And, though there was no possible physical cause, the emotion was rooted in the folded cloth she held. She must continue to hold; she could not reach for her slate to write any of the questions churning in her mind. Thus Mereth stood and watched Nalor go about her healing work, while keeping half her attention on the wadded cloth into which her nails burrowed. At length Mistress Bethelie supervised two of her own staff as they carried away the girl, heavily swathed in bandages. But there was no time, even then, for questions and answers-not when one of them could not speak them freely. Either Mereth had become accustomed to the burning of the strange rage, or else much of that had subsided. She still clasped the cloth tightly, however as cudgel-battered men began to be either carried in or aided by comrades. There came both defenders of Lormt and villagers, b.l.o.o.d.y, bruised and somehow scarcely aware of their surroundings.

Lady Nalor paused to s.n.a.t.c.h up a gla.s.s bowl and curl a summoning finger at Mereth. "In." She had opened a hinged lid. Mereth pushed in the crumpled fabric and the Herb Mistress snapped the lid back down instantly and made it secure.

The housekeeper appeared, holding Mereth's staff and drew the cramped and wrinkled hand of the older woman into the crook of her st.u.r.dy elbow. "Come, M'Lady-'tis near sunup. We do not wish any fever, now do we? Bed for you now-"

Nalor had not only relieved her of that burden that had hammered against her strength, but it seemed that she had drawn on Mereth's energy, draining her as well. She allowed herself to be half guided, half carried to her own chamber and the soft comfort of her waiting bed.

It was light again-the clear gloss of very early sunlight touched the undrawn curtain of the bed as she roused. Mereth sat up among the pillows and drew her hand across her forehead, a gesture which brought no relief to her aching head. She looked around twice to rea.s.sure herself that no evil shadow had followed her out of the dreams that had imprisoned and tormented her.

Slowly she washed in the tepid water she found in her bowl. Its warmth suggested that someone had looked in at her not long before. s.h.i.+vering, she drew a heavy gown of quiet violet from her chest and a gray shawl formed into lace by knitting. Mereth continued to battle the pain, which had established itself behind her eyes and, leaning on her staff much more heavily than usual, she sought out company.

This she found in one of the common rooms. The chamber was more crowded than she had ever seen it, and voices rose more loudly than usual. As Mereth entered, partly unnoticed, she was near deafened by fragments of news that were being pa.s.sed around the room.

Lord Duratan had sent for the nearest Wise Woman-no, he had ridden off to seek her-he was going to appeal to Lord Koris who ruled in Es these days-the villagers had been dabbling in ancient and forbidden things-they had actually brought a girl child as a sacrifice to some devilish thing-and on it

went!

Mereth lingered near the door, wanting to escape the din. If she could only cover her ears-but she dared not lose the support of her staff and perhaps end up on the floor for her trouble.

"Lady Mereth!"

Mage f.a.ggold, one of the oldest scholars, suddenly appeared beside her. Though he had counted a vast

tally of years, he had not retired as far from the world of the present time as most of his age group, and he was credited with being perhaps the finest historian of those now at Lormt.

He raised his voice more strongly to overcome the din. "This is indeed fortunate, finding you so. We are

about to sit in council." He offered her his arm with the grace of a courtier.

Thus those, who might this day be considered the new defenders of their world, gathered. Lord Duratan was not present. In his place sat Nalor, his lady, and lying before her on the table, around which their

chairs had been gathered, was the cloth Mereth knew well. There sat Wessel and another former Borderer, three of the sages, and f.a.ggold.

When Mereth was comfortably seated, her slate to hand, Lady Nalor, using the point of a pen as an

indicator, raised the edge of the cloth and flipped it out flat. Next she pointed to indicate brown

splotches, sticking to its length, which was now far from white.

"You have seen what lies here as it appears beneath the enlarging gla.s.s. You have felt-" she paused, looking from one face to another.

From the moment her eyes had touched that cloth, Mereth's head moved from side to side. She strove to repel what had followed her out of her feverish dreams. Without her conscious mind's order, she was writing on her slate.

"It lives-it eats-eats the living-"

The horror of that thought shook her write-stick from her hand. f.a.ggold caught it before it fell to the floor. Lady Nalor nodded.

"Yes." Tapping her pen on the table, as if to center their attention to her, with its tip the healer separated

one of the dark twigs. "This is not a thing of the sun or of the Light. It lives beneath. Though it seems a plant, yet it is not as we know plants, for its food is flesh and blood." She gazed from one to another of the council members.

Mereth picked up her writing stick from beside her slate where f.a.ggold had placed it. She had regained

her control and shaped her words firmly.

"Is this one of the ancient evils awakened again? Or-is there a gate undiscovered-unsealed? Do we dig to tear it up by the roots?" She lingered a moment, supplied a final sentence, her memory awake. Of course there in the past the crew had been fighting a lesser peril on the strange island to the far south, however their improvised weapon had worked very well. "There is fire to cleanse, weed killing potions to poison-" she listed on her slate.

f.a.ggold and Lady Nalor had both been following her writing closely.

"Acid of Safall," Nalor nodded vigorously.

"Hot coals held tongs of bale iron," the Mage added his suggestion as quickly. "We must make the

villagers aid-"

Mereth leaned back a little. Those in the council were all talking at once again. She felt as if a cloud

hung above her head. This was all too simple somehow.

She picked up the slate and stick to stow them into the bag fastened to her girdle. Those about her were planning now; sometimes they seemed of two minds as to what method to use, but all were united on the

fact that the task must be done with all possible haste, before the monstrous ground-creeping scourge could spread farther.

Mereth chewed her lower lip. There was more, of that she was sure. Was a villager, one with some Dark

learning, backing this?

With the aid of her staff she got to her feet. Lady Nalor looked up and Mereth made a small gesture with

her right hand. Over the years she had been at Lormt she had developed hand signals, easily understood by her daily companions. Now she also gave a slight nod.

However, Mereth did not return to her chamber when she left the council, rather she went but a short

distance down the hall, into a small side orom. A kitchen maid sat nodding in a chair beside an occupied bed. She quickly slipped out of the chair, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Mereth smiled and gestured to the door. The maid disappeared gratefully, leaving the chair for the old woman.

Mereth settled there gingerly, her attention all for the occupant of the bed. She was entirely alert now, as more and more her suspicions grew firm. The village girl lay with her well-padded back up-turned, the bandages giving forth an herbal scent. However, her head was turned toward the elderly woman and now her eyes opened abruptly.

Speech being denied her, and perhaps even all communication, if the girl could not read-how could she-?

Mereth's head jerked. It was as if she had heard-sly laughter.