Ravenwild: Book 01 - Ravenwild (84 page)

They walked in single file, Captain Pilrick in the lead. He was followed by Oddwaddle, who shuffled along with that strange gait by which he had garnered his name. Jessica and Blake were next, followed by Gall, who had been careful to position himself in between them and Jebwickett, who brought up the rear. They had been marching west for days now, headed towards the northeast border of Vultura and hoping to rendezvous with one of the clans where they might glean some news as to the whereabouts of Stephanie and of the war. Every evening had brought them rest and a meal of fresh meat, thanks to the hunting talents of Blake, as well as a chance for Jessica to sit alone with Jebwickett and try to pick away at the layers of hate in which he kept himself so tightly wrapped.

As the second spring-moon began to peek its way over the distant horizon,

the captain called a halt to the day’s march and ordered everybody to be about the business of setting up camp for the night. Around a fire, they sat in silence and chewed the time away.

“Jebwickett,” said the captain, “You will take first watch. I will take second. Oddwaddle, you will relieve me.”

Blake and Jessica busied themselves with dragging windblowns, pieces of brush, small boulders, and any other form of debris that would provide protection from the chill that might soon be upon them.

“Feels like it’s going to be warmer tonight,” said Blake.

“Mmmm,” answered Jessica. “I’m just happy that I don’t have to clean up after them anymore.”

She approached the captain, already rolled up in his bedroll and starting to drift off. “Captain Pilrick,” she said softly, “permission to sit with Jebwickett for a bit.”

The captain had noticed these meetings between them for the last several nights, and being an intelligent Gnome, had a pretty good idea what she was trying to do.

“Permission granted,” he said in a weary voice. He rolled away from her.

She stood to leave and he rolled back, propping himself up one elbow. “You know, you’re not going to fix him.”

She nodded. “Probably not,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep trying.”

He sighed. “Very well. Carry on.”

Blake continued to work on their temporary camp. “I’m going to speak with Jebwickett,” she said.

Shoving a pile of leaves into one of the crevices, he said, “Go for it. But keep your sword at the ready. I can’t afford to lose you.”

She smiled.

“I’m serious,” he said. “We both know what he’s capable of. I think what you’re doing is admirable, but … ”

“But what?”

“What’s that old saying? The road to hell is paved with good intentions …”

“And polished with sad regrets,” she finished for him.

“You got it,” he said, reaching for another branch. “Be careful.”

“May I sit with you?” she asked Jebwickett.

“I suppose.”

They sat together, neither speaking for a while. She reached over to hike his coat a little further up on his neck against the breeze, and he stiffened. Tonight, unlike the night before, and the night before that, his hand did not drop to his sword.

“You know, Jebwickett,” she began, “you’re just a boy.”

“I am not a boy,” he snapped. “I am a soldier. I am a soldier in service to my Emperor, Leopold Malance Venomisis. We might not seem it to you, but we are an army, and an army needs discipline. I am in charge of that. I am the discipline

officer.” He turned to face her with a haughty smile.

“I want you to tell me about the day that Gall’s mother was killed.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” he said. “I don’t
have
to.”

“I think you do. I think you want to talk about that a lot.”

“What makes you so smart?” He looked at her suspiciously.

“Never mind that now. Tell me about that day.”

“Stupid Jubra,” he muttered.

“Who is Jubra?” she asked.

“Gall’s little sister. It was all perfect. Ubri and I were brothers. Best friends. We did everything together. Then
she
was born and ruined everything. Jubra this. Jubra that. Stupid Jubra. I should have killed her. I would have, too.” He stared off at the Inam'Ra moons. She noticed he seemed to look very sad. Barely audible, he whispered, “I almost did.”

“Tell me about your mother.”

“She died.”

“How did she die?”

“I don’t know, she died, that’s all. Gnomes die. Everybody dies.”

“Did you and she get along well?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, did you fight a lot?”

“No.”

“Did she and your father fight a lot?”

“Never,” then, “Never, never, never. They never had a cross word.”

“What happened after your mother died? To your father, I mean?”

Jebwickett snapped his head towards her, his face suddenly contorted with rage. “Too many questions,” he said. “Go now. Go away before I kill
you.
” He put his hand on his sword. She ignored the gesture and reached up to pat him gently on the head. “Go,” he commanded, pointing away. “Don’t make me do something I don’t want to do. I don’t want to hurt you. But I would if I had to. I am a soldier.”

She stood up and backed away from him. “No,” she said. “You are a boy.”

She turned and retraced her steps to the campsite. Had she turned to look back at him, she would have seen that he was feeling his head, where he could still feel the warmth of her touch.

She walked down the trail, which turned into a pathway, which turned into a small road. She couldn’t remember getting separated from Diana and Jared. All she could recall was that vicious storm as they had approached the border of the Enchanted Northland. “So much for
that
theory,” she thought. She considered calling out for them, but rejected this as more dangerous than smart. Best to keep on walking and see if she could pick up their trail.

“Where
are
they?” she thought. She fought hard to keep from getting angry. Somebody had often said to her that emotions are not problem solving tools, but she couldn’t remember who it was. This was all so strange.

What was stranger was the fact that she felt clean, and when she stopped in about an hour to check and see if she had anything left to eat, not only was her backpack full of food, it was very odd food. Nothing like what she remembered having had on her when she became separated from her companions. Come to think of it, she didn’t recognize the knapsack.

There was the same dried meat, but in addition, there was a variety of fresh fruits and vegetables, not the dried, shriveled stuff that she had gotten used to. There was a large loaf of flat bread. She sniffed it. It was fresh. Baffled, she continued to unpack. There was a fresh set of clothes, complete with clean undergarments similar to those … of … somewhere she had been, a heavy waterproof cloak, a set of rugged gloves, and a tiny metal pot-for-one, clearly designed for boiling water over an open fire.

There were several pockets and fasteners on the top of it, and two front pockets on the bottom, each secured by buttons, one white and one black. In the pocket held fast by the white one she found containers of tea and sugar. Such a treat. She hadn’t had sugar since … well, she couldn’t remember when. There was also an extra flint-and-steel, a match to the one she carried in her vest, a small sharpening stone, and a spare compass.

She opened the other. In the tips of her fingers she noticed a potent tingling sensation as she worked the button that held it shut. It was painful enough that she hesitated in her efforts, quickly withdrawing her fingers, which she instinctively placed in her mouth. The sensation subsided, causing her to think that perhaps she had imagined it, but, no, when she reached out to lift the flap, there it was again. Undeterred, she flipped it open. A warm breeze caressed her face, causing her hair to lift slightly off of her shoulders, and she thought for sure she heard voices calling to her from far away, voices she could have sworn she knew.

Whereas the lining of the first pocket had been perfectly plain, this one was covered with a soft, velour-like material. She tipped the pack slightly to peer inside and saw a stout gold chain. Reaching in, she withdrew it. As soon as she touched it, that strange tingling sensation reappeared, but this time it did not surprise her. In fact, it felt almost pleasant.

It was around eighteen inches long, and fastened to it was a biconvex, elliptical, amber-colored amulet. She held it up to look closely at it and the color faded away, only to be replaced by that of a grim-faced Elf who appeared to be looking her directly in the eye. She gasped and sat back, putting her free hand to her mouth in surprise. She
knew
this Elf. She
knew
she knew her from somewhere, from sometime, but she couldn’t remember where or when. The Elf smiled slightly, more with her eyes than with her mouth, nodded, and disappeared. Her image was replaced by color again, this time a soft purple. She shook it. Nothing happened. “Come on, come on,” she said out loud, as if by speaking to it she might get it to do something. She tapped it softly on the ground a few times and held it up in front of her. Nothing. “Hmmm,” she mused. Because she was more than a little afraid of it, and didn’t really want to put it on, she reached forward to replace it in the pocket from which she had withdrawn it. But when she did, she got a terrible shock that hurt something fierce, causing her to cry out. The image of the Elf reappeared and she muttered, “I take it you want me to wear it.” She wasn’t surprised when the image nodded again, offered the same smile, and faded.

“Here goes,” she sighed, as she stood and slipped it over her head, paying close attention to any odd feelings that might arise over this simple act, but... no, she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, except maybe that it felt like it belonged on her, that she had worn it before. But perhaps she was imagining that. She couldn’t be sure.

As it hung there, she looked at her body-armor vest. It was then that she finally noticed she was wearing a completely different outfit than she remembered, this one clean and in good repair. None of this made any sense. Taking a bite from a juicy red apple that had fallen out of the pack when it was first opened, she sat down to think on it, to try and figure it out.