Thursday, July 8, 2004

While it was true he had lived a sheltered life, it was not his nature to be troubled by unusual things. Leto was contemplative and not easily startled. A girl, probably a soldier or bandit, lying unconscious on the ground in front of him, though unusual, was no cause for alarm. She looked to be around fifteen or maybe twenty years old. She was pretty, with dark hair matted against her forehead, as if she had been wearing a hat. There was a long cut, not deep, on her cheek close to her ear that had probably bled badly for a few moments. The blood had dried on her face. She was dressed warmly, as he was, but in a style he did not know. The light snow that had been falling since the early morning had stopped, and she was covered only here and there with a powdery blanket.
When he realized that he had been standing there looking at this girl for more time than he should have, and was surprised to find himself going over the lessons he had learned from Brother William on giving aid to the wounded in his mind, it was too late to approach her, the goblins had come.
The foul little creatures were armed with the long black spears that were said to be made from the strongest wood. There were three of them, and they came at Leto slowly from the right side, just down the hill from the fallen girl. Leto could not tell if they had seen the girl on the ground, or maybe, he wondered, she was there because of them. He put out of his mind the troubling questions and moved deliberately toward the girl. At her side, on a loop of strong hide, was a mace. It was a small one, but the head looked of good iron, and he needed to defend himself. For a large man he moved quickly, and the goblins were surprised. They rushed on towards him, perhaps thinking he was trying to run away. Leto threw himself to the ground and pulled the mace from her belt. He had half expected it to not yield easily, but it did, and he was on his feet swiftly. He turned as the first of the goblins was bearing down on him.
The goblin had to run just slightly uphill, and this was his undoing. The spear was held too high and missed Leto, going above his left shoulder. Leto had trained against the spear. He lowered his body and swung down hard aiming for the haft just in front of the goblins grip. The blow was supposed to force the opponent to lose his weapon, but instead the shaft splintered. The leading edge of the spear was sent flying off to land out of sight. Still clutching at the broken spear, the goblin stumbled into a head first fall. The sudden stumbling of the first goblin caused the others to stop their charge. From the look on their faces, a look of both fear and confusion, Leto could guess that they were thinking he had incapacitated the fallen goblin. Without giving time for the first one to recover, or the others to see their error, Leto lunged. Keeping his steps close together he swung the mace in a wide arc again aiming for the spears. What happened next could only be described as a pratfall. With wide eyes the goblins dropped their weapons and scrambled back down the hillside, giving no backward glance, running away as fast as they were able. The momentum of Leto’s swing carried him in a full circle. He slipped on the new fallen snow and landed flat on his back. It would not have been painful, but for his overstuffed pack and a pot handle that found its way to a most uncomfortable place.
Leto rolled over and cursed loudly. He raised himself onto his knees, still holding the mace, and tried with his free hand to loosen the pack straps. He caught a sudden movement out of his eye to his left, turned his head and watched the third goblin running down the hill quickly catching up to the others. He watched them grow smaller and smaller until they could no longer be seen among the small trees near the stream at the base of the hill.
He moved to the girl with more urgency now, shuffling along on his hands and knees. He brought his cheek close to her nose and could feel very slight warmth. Her breaths were long but weak. Being so close he could now see a dark purple bruise on her neck that looked to be very large. He pulled at the collar of the heavy coat she wore and saw the bruise was worse as it went down her right shoulder and down her back. He carefully brushed the powdery snow from her body and then using both hands felt along her right side for any swelling or bleeding. Her right hip was swollen, but there didn’t appear to be any broken bones.
Leto stood and brushed himself off, adjusted his pack, and took a look around. The broken spear lay close by, as well as the two other spears, and then it occurred to him. He removed his pack and outer coat, and using the two unbroken spears and some cord from his pack turned his coat into a travois. He braced the bottom with part of the broken spear, and moving slowly lifted the girl onto the litter. He tried to be careful as he used the little bits of cord he had left to secure her to the rig, and he placed a spare shirt from his own pack around her neck to support it, and hopefully cushion her head from the bumps and jars that this type of transport was sure to create. It was a day and a half back to the monastery and he knew that the Elder would be displeased to see him return. He could walk to Bellwater, there was a bridge south, but that would take him away from the direction he was told to go. For a few moments he stood holding the travois trying to decide what was the best course of action. His mind was made up by the oncoming snow.
The morning snowfall had been light, but now the sky was turning a dark gray and tinged with green. That meant hail, and possible heavy snow. It was unusual, this close to spring, for this kind of wintry weather, but more often than not it seemed to him the worst weather came at the worst times. A mile or so west, back the way he had come were some caves, really just some overhanging rock, along the hillside. With purpose, Leto turned around and started back toward those caves with long strong strides making the best time he could.
The ground was hard, and his path was down hill. He reached the rocky caves as wet snow was falling, and before the winds picked up. He moved the girl to the back of the cave; it was not deep, and immediately hurried back out to gather any wood he could find. To the south the trees were closer here than where he had found her, and many had low branches small enough for him to break. He was careful not to take too much from any one tree, although he knew that the Principles of Conservation were not so strict, it was good practice, he believed. When he got back to the cave the snow and wind were turning to driving sleet. The sound of heavy hail falling to the east grew louder. He closed his eyes and smiled, saying a prayer of thanks to the guardians of travelers.
Inside the cave he opened his pack. A linen cloth he used to wrap bread gave him the few fibers he needed for kindling. He had a hardwood box with twenty matches, that he had made himself, and a piece of roughened steel. There was a small fire in only minutes. The next thing he did was clean her face of dried blood using the cloth, and some water collected from the storm. To his surprise the wound began to bleed again. He applied pressure to the cut with one hand as he fished around in his pack for the sewing kit brother Randal had given him. The folded hide kit, had a strong needle, that was already threaded with a short length of string, it seemed funny to him now that he had not put the needle away properly after mending a shirt for Andrea. The art of stitching a wound was only shown him once, but he calmed his breath and set to the task with a steady hand. The hail was falling in rolling waves now. He let the rhythm of the storm guide his breathing, and focusing all his attention, closed the gash in her cheek with a line of stitches brother Randal would have been proud of.
The girl seemed to improve over the next few hours, but she did not wake up. Her color grew darker and her breaths stronger. The day was consumed with changes in rain, snow, sleet and hail. At dusk when the sky finally cleared and the moon was visible in the sky, a fog began to develop rising from the river to the south. Leto went out again for more wood. That night waking from fitful sleep, he watched the girls breathing. She was beautiful, he thought, which was a new thought for him. He had been around many women in his life, the nuns at Chawillik Glade, the traders that came from the villages and farms, and his mother, though she had left when he was eight. But this girl looked nothing like them. Even with her eyes closed he could tell those eyes were large, and her brows thick and dark. Her hair came to a point above her brows in the most peculiar fashion. Her face was small and shaped like a wedge. Looking at her he could tell she was small, like the Eshians, but strong. Over all she seemed odd in many ways, but he knew he loved her before he knew her name.

End of part one



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