The Knight

The Knight

A short, sudden shriek pierced the early morning air, briefly interrupting the birdsongs echoing through the forest. Maeben, sworn swordswoman to Queen Dyyana of the Wood, stopped on the narrow, shady path; her hand went instinctively to her weapon, eyes narrowing. She held her breath.

The sound was followed by an indistinct murmuring in the simultaneously condescending and comforting tone of an experienced healer. It was soon succeeded by another longer and more plaintive series of wails.

Maeben resumed walking. Presently she rounded a corner and a small, sturdy-looking cottage came into view, almost engulfed by a cluster of walnut trees. She could make out more of the conversation now.

“…three times a day in an infusion of this tea, not whatever swill your accursed grandmother’s been washing it with. Dry it carefully with a clean cloth – clean, mind you – and dress it with this ointment before you wrap it up. If you have pain, take this tea, boiled for ten minutes and strained, with some honey. If the wound goes very red and is hot to touch, or if you see any more pustules, come back straight away—and don’t let that stupid hag anywhere near it!”

Maeben made a small, wry expression of amusement that couldn’t exactly be called a smile. She was at the doorway now.

“Yes, Maige,” a traumatized voice replied weakly. “I promise to come to you first next time.”

“See that you do,” Maige said firmly as Maeben entered. The morning sun still hung partway up in the sky, and she cast a long shadow into the cabin.

It fell on a young girl, plump and red haired. She couldn’t have been much older than thirteen. She started at the sudden loss of sunshine, and squeaked when she saw Maeben. She put her hand to her mouth; a large bandage was wrapped around her forearm. Her light brown eyes, wide as eggs, focused on the blurred ‘S’ shaped brand on the swordswoman’s cheekbone.

Maige’s stout back was to the door. She looked sharply over her shoulder without turning around, one hand reaching inside her sleeve. When she recognized the tall blond woman, she gave her a dismissive look and turned away.

“Can’t you say ‘hello’ like a normal person?” Maeben did not answer.

The red-haired girl was now glancing back and forth between Maeben and the healer, panic in her eyes. She looked like a rabbit caught between a wolf and a fox.

“M-may I go now, Maige?” she asked in a quavering voice.

“Go,” the healer replied crossly, jerking her head towards the door. “Mad Maeben’s apparently got business to discuss with me.”

The girl scurried off, breathily murmuring her thanks for the tea and ointment and keeping one fearful eye on Maeben as the tall blond woman moved aside to let her pass.

When the girl was well on her way down the path, Maige turned around slowly and focused a critical eye on her guest.

“Does it make you happy to scare people the way you do? You might smile once in a while.”

“I smile.”

“Not for me you don’t.” The older woman tossed her head impatiently, jostling her precarious iron-grey crown braid. “Why have you come here?”

“Orders from our Queen.”

“I might have guessed that by myself—what kind of orders? Is it about the Dragon Lord?”

“Yes.” Maige bristled, going on the defensive immediately

“I’ve already sent my quota down to the border. I’ll go myself when the fighting starts, but not yet.” She gestured down the path where the girl had gone. “A mere cut from the practice yard, but it festered and if no one set it right she’d be dead before long. I’m needed here too.” She paused for breath. “I was told I had a week.”

“Things have changed. Drakken marches on Millers’ Bend.” Maige blinked in surprise, but did not look particularly impressed.

“What about Greatlord Whoever; can’t he defend his own city?”

“There is no time for him to act. This was not expected.”

“Millers’ Bend is not part of the Wood. What concern is it of mine?”

The sympathy of a healer, reflected Maeben, is always in short supply. But so is the patience of a swordswoman.

“It concerns your Queen!” Maige flinched at the booming reprimand, but Maeben continued. “If Millers’ Bend falls it will not go well for us. The Queen is determined to save the city.”

The healer stared at her well-swept dirt floor. “Alright, Maeben, I hear you. But why come to me? That’s all I want to know.”

“I come for your spell.” Maeben was brisk. “How long does it take to prepare?” The healer started.

“Which one?”

“You know which one.” Maige’s face grew solemn. She thought for a few moments.

“It would take from between now until sundown I suppose.”

“For how many?”

“For as many as five-and-twenty if I could find the makings.”

“I need enough for a hundred. By sundown today; I will recruit some girls to help you.”

“A hundred! By tonight! What on earth for?”

“The usual thing. The Owls are going hunting.”

Maige stared at the empty space just in front of her nose. She shook her head slightly, obviously deep in thought.

“We had a good rain yesterday; it might be done…” She trailed off, and then looked at Maeben shrewdly.

“The Dragon Lord breaks faith with the Ensigned and marches against the Wood, the wealthiest settlement within a hundred leagues is about to be caught up in his teeth, and Queen Dyyana sends her sworn swordswoman and faithful companion to treat with me about spells for Owls?” She laughed. “I would’ve thought she’d give you something more important to do.”

Maeben’s eyes sparkled with a fierce satisfaction that made Maige suddenly very uncomfortable.

“She did – for later.” There was a pause.

“Well,” Maige said, making an awkward, unsuccessful attempt at regaining her sauciness. “Is that all?”

The corners of Maeben’s mouth turned upwards ever so slightly. Maige had never imagined a smile could be so disconcerting.

“No. You’re coming with us.”

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