Accidental Sorceress (Hardstorm Saga Book 2) (24 page)

Already, the vomiting was subsiding.

“Move these men over there,” the captain ordered his soldiers, and they immediately dragged the sick a few paces away so they wouldn’t be lying in their own vomit.

Then, following my example and that of the captain, the soldiers began pouring charcoal paste down the throats of their unfortunate comrades.

I kept my attention on the sick, wiping sweat from their brows, but I could hear the gathered crowd talking about me. News that I was a great sorceress healer, half human, half tiger, in search of Lord Karnagh spread faster through the army camp than dysentery.

The soldiers who had escorted me into camp had heard everything I’d said to their captain on the road and now freely shared my words, heavily embellishing them with all they had heard in Ker. They had their chests puffed out, taking full credit for bringing a powerful sorceress into camp.

I busied myself with the sick, making them drink clean water after they finished all the charcoal paste. I bathed their sweating faces once again, then I set about cleaning the vomit off their clothes. Their concerned friends brought me as many buckets of water as I needed.

“Will they live?” the captain asked, his voice tight.

And only then did I realize that the young man he had been administering to looked very much like him.

“Your son?”

He brushed the wet hair out of the young man’s face, deep furrows lining his forehead. “The only one left living out of seven. Will he live?” he asked again.

“He will,” I said, in case the sick could hear me. “We removed the poison.” I raised my voice. “They will all live.”

And then I prayed the spirits would not make a liar out of me.

I stayed with the sick as day turned into evening, made sure they drank again. I lay among them all through the night, getting up if any of them moaned or cried out for help.

By morning, they rested more easily. Some had enough strength to sit, among them the captain’s son. The captain clapped him on the back with pure relief on his face. Then he did the same to the other men, as if they were all his. I supposed, in a sense, they were.

“They will survive the poison.” I could say that with full certainty by then. “But they must keep drinking water and eat carefully for a few days. Nothing too greasy. Nothing too heavy. And as for the others… Only those who are from around these parts should go off into the woods to gather mushrooms and roots for the meals.”

The captain nodded. He watched me for a long moment. “You have done us a great service.”

I did what I knew how to do. “Why did you trust me?” I asked.

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Because of the camel.” He offered a half smile. “Many people said many things about what happened in Ker. But Makmin said you saved his camel. On this, I took Makmin’s words over the others’. That caravan master loved his camel.”

I sighed at that as I thought how heartbroken poor Makmin must be.

The captain said, “I am Captain Witsel.”

I inclined my head, knowing what finally sharing his name meant. He had not when he thought I might be a dark sorceress, for giving a creature of magic one’s name could give them power over that person.

He continued with, “I owe you my son’s life, and the life of my men. I regret that I will have to take you back to Ker to face the city fathers.” He paused. “On the other hand, you are a powerful sorceress. How could anyone be surprised if you enthralled the night guard and escaped across the border through the woods?”

On the last word, he turned and strode away, leaving me looking after him with mouth agape.

I wondered what I was to do next but did not have to wonder long. Two soldiers came and escorted me to a tent. Then two more soldiers appeared, one carrying blankets, the other food.

“Captain says you best not freeze or starve before you can be taken back to Ker,” one said before they left the pile of goods with me.

Three wool blankets!

True luxury, even if one did smell like a horse. I ran my fingers over the incredible treasure. Then, like an impatient child, I picked up and sniffed the full loaf of bread I’d been given in a new food sack. Half a round of hard cheese. Goat jerky. Six carrots and a cabbage. Six tart apples.

I blinked hard at the captain’s generosity.

I sat on the tree stump in the middle of the tent and ate, just a few bites of bread and cheese. I had to save the rest.

Nobody came to see me, although I was sure there were some in camp who could have used my healing. A simple herb woman they might have approached, even a healer. But they were wary of a sorceress. I imagined tales of me were growing more and more exaggerated with every passing moment.

When night fell, I hung my sacks from my belt, then tied all three blankets around my shoulders as a many-layered cloak. I bundled up tightly, as if against the cold, then poked my head outside the tent.

Two men stood guard. I recognized both. I had treated them earlier, one of them the captain’s own son. They appeared weak and exhausted, but they bowed deeply when I stepped forward.

“I must relieve myself. In the woods.”

“There is a tiger in the woods, my lady,” the captain’s son said.

“The tiger will not hurt me.”

He nodded as if they had already heard that tale.

They escorted me out of camp but stopped short of the edge of the forest.

I kept on walking until I was well covered by the trees. Then I looked at the sky through the bare branches, filled my lungs with cold night air, and silently thanked Captain Witsel for setting me free.

I walked east by the stars. Here in the woods, there were no border markers as on the road. By the time I first stopped to drink, I estimated I was well on the other side of the border, inside the kingless kingdom of Seberon, Selorm land.

I was hoping that Marga and Orz would soon catch up with me. But a team of soldiers reached me first.

Chapter Nineteen

(A New Beginning)

Six men. On foot. Fast runners. Captain Witsel’s men. The two who had escorted me to the forest were not amongst them.

They surrounded me but did not draw their weapons, indeed the leader bowed his head with respect. “The captain sent us after you, Lady Tera.”

I stood still.
Had I misunderstood the captain?

“We are Selorm,” the man said next.

That explained the lack of horses. The Selorm were foot soldiers for the most part. Their lords fought with battle tigers, and tigers scared even the bravest battle horses.

The man spoke again. “We heard that you wish to find Lord Karnagh.”

I nodded. “If I can.”

He shifted on his feet. “The captain said if we came to take you back but you enthralled us to go with you, we could not be blamed.”

The others looked at me warily, but also with hope, as if their lives depended on my answer. They had volunteered to go with me to Regnor, I suspected.

They knew the land better, and they probably knew Lord Karnagh better than I. The journey would be safer with their protection.

As I tried to think of what to say, the tiger chuffed somewhere behind them in the woods. I chuffed back to her.

A few moments later, she chuffed from much closer. And then she was there, walking out of the trees toward me. The men parted to allow her passage but showed little fear. They were Selorm, accustomed to tigers.

She merely sniffed in their direction, did not growl or bare her teeth. Maybe she smelled their lord’s battle tigers on their uniform, left from past battles.

She padded straight to me and rubbed her head against my cheek, nearly knocking me over. I had to slide an arm around her neck to steady myself. I was most relieved to see her.

When I looked up, the wariness was gone from the men’s eyes. Now all their gazes held were hope and excitement.

“Tigers do not bond with women,” their leader said. “You are a true sorceress.” He bowed again.

“It does not scare you?”

“You are a good sorceress. Tigers do not bond with an evil heart.”

I looked at the men, all of them nodding. I appreciated the vote of confidence—a welcome change from suggestions that I should be boiled in tar.

Marga sensed their ease around her and behaved accordingly, sniffing at them one more time, then ignoring them entirely, since I did not act as if they represented a threat. She chuffed toward the forest then.

I peered into the dark woods in that direction. Had she found a mate? I stiffened. Would her mate be as tolerant of people?

But when I finally saw movement, it wasn’t a flash of amber. Orz walked toward us, his black robe melting into the black woods around him. He wore the boots I had left him.

As easily as the soldiers accepted Marga, they froze at the sight of the hollow. They clumped together now, every hand on the hilt of a sword.

“His name is Orz,” I said, calmly, clearly. “He means no harm. He has suffered at the hand of the dark sorcerer of Ishaf.”

Marga moved from me to Orz and rubbed against him as she had rubbed against me earlier. I stared a little too, at that. She hadn’t done it before. Had they spent all this time together? Had she followed my scent and led Orz to me?

At the tiger’s full acceptance of Orz, encouraged that the hollow did not try to move toward them, the soldiers removed their hands from their weapons. But they still eyed the hollow with dislike and suspicion.

I filled my lungs. “If we are to travel together, we must have trust in each other.”

“My lady.” The young soldier addressing me bowed his head. “Do you not fear that it will suck out your spirit?”

“I do not.” Didn’t I?

Marga had just rubbed against him, and nothing happened to her. Marga most certainly had a spirit. Without it, she would not have responded to my spirit songs. Yet her spirit remained intact.

I needed three steps to reach Orz. I did not hesitate but a moment before I took his ill-shaped hand.

And gasped as something passed between us.

My head swam for a moment.

I pulled back. He drew nothing from me, and certainly not by force, but my healing powers responded to his battered body on instinct.

I looked at his bowed head as if seeing him for the first time, not that I could see much in the night forest.

Could I heal him?

Yet even as I reached for him again, he drew away. I had taken him by surprise the first time. He did not seem to want to be healed, or maybe he could not understand that I could help him with his pain.

Little by little, he raised his head at last. I held my breath, but as much as I tried to peer at his face, I could not see his features, for he stood in the deepest of shadows.

I would have given much for a torch or even a small candle just then.

At least I’d accomplished one thing. The soldiers relaxed. Seeing me touch the hollow and suffer no ill effects went a long way toward making them comfortable.

“Old wives’ tales,” I said firmly. Then, as Orz stayed out of my reach, I turned northward again and strode forward. “Let us walk until we find a suitable place to rest for the night. Mayhap we shall find water.”

We were in the thick woods, gnarly roots breaking the soil everywhere, no place for us to lie down to rest comfortably. We moved forward.

We stayed in the forest and did not go near the road as we headed north. We were now in a country at war. The road up ahead might be crawling with enemy soldiers who would kill us on sight.

The Selorm soldiers all gave me their names as we walked, and pledged themselves to my protection. Tomron was the oldest and their leader. He was Batumar’s age, strong in the arms and shoulders, his nose nearly flat after having been many times broken.

Fadden was a handsome youth, even younger than I, the only one who smiled as he talked. Baran was thick-waisted and thick-necked, a blacksmith before the war. Hartz was the strongest-looking of the six, his arms swollen with muscles.

Atter was missing both ears but made up for it by having the most melodious voice. I hoped he was a bard. I would have loved to hear him sing some Selorm stories. Lison spoke only his name, then gave a brief nod and fell back. He talked to me no more nor to the others as we moved forward. He seemed to have a dark cloud over him, or maybe inside him.

They were all large men. Whereas Marga’s head was level with mine, it reached only to their chests. But despite their size, they walked silently through the forest, stealing forward in their leather boots as softly as the tiger.

“When did you last see Lord Karnagh?” I asked.

Tomron answered. “When he rode out from Regnor before the harvest. At first, when the enemy reached our lands, the Selorm lords gathered their tigers and their warriors to defend the border as one great army.”

He paused as if the words to come pained him. “But the Kerghi hordes overran us, my lady.” Then he added, “The Emperor has a sorcerer on his side, and the sorcerer has a horn. When blown, the sound drove half the tigers mad.”

He looked at me expectantly as he walked next to me, matching his stride to mine. On my other side walked Orz. We were following Marga, who glanced back at us from time to time, as if wondering what was so difficult about keeping up. The rest of the men fanned out behind us, watching for attack.

Tomron said, “At the sound of the horn, the battle tigers fell to the ground in pain. Some ran off and abandoned their lords in the middle of battle.” He glanced at me again.

Clearly, he wanted to know if I had heard of such a thing, and if I, being a sorceress myself, could somehow counteract this.

I would have to think about that. “Where did Lord Karnagh ride from Regnor?”

Tomron accepted that I wasn’t going to answer his unspoken question, and he answered mine. “When the battle on the border was lost, each lord drew back to his castle to defend his own.”

He gave a long pause that spoke of memories of dark times. “We drew back behind Regnor’s walls on Lord Karnagh’s orders. First we heard news of one castle falling after another. Then the enemy reached us, and we beat them back. They had the horn somewhere else. We slaughtered them. The fields around the castle ran red with blood, my lady.” His words brimmed with pride.