Chapter XX

Tomaz had worked his way into a wide crack in the hollow tree, trying to escape the cold winds which had sprung up around him. He huddled there, knees drawn up to his chin, arms hugging his folded legs. The change blew all around and he was a very frightened boy. Tears streaked his dirty face, leaving clean tracks along his cheeks. Outside, he could hear the wind howling. Soon the ice storms would begin, sending sheets of frozen rain and sleet to assault him in his den.

There was little protection from the cold here in this ancient tree. Tomaz was certain he would never be warm again as a biting gust found him. As he listened, he thought he could hear another sound rising over the wind. It was a wild keening, and seemed to be coming from two directions at once.

The hunters were desperate now. Change was upon them and they had lost the quarry. Their young would starve in the den if not fed soon. The female wailed to her mate as she picked up the boy’s scent. Man was not the usual prey, being respected predators in their own right, but the man-cub was alone and weak; she could smell it in his fear.

The kill must be made now to preserve the litter. Such was the instinct that drove them.

Her mate circled the tree keening, as she crouched, waiting for the prey to be flushed from its hidey hole. The male hissed and worried at a small crack in the tree trunk. Sharp claws tore at the bark until a paw was able to penetrate the small opening, claws extended to draw blood from the frightened prey within. When the man-cub bolted through the larger opening on the other side of the tree, the female would pounce.

With a cry, Tomaz pulled away from the sharp protrusion suddenly stabbing at his back. In the small confines of the tree, he was unable to get free of the probing claws, as the drakul continued its blind attack.

Fighting back terrified tears, the boy worked his Yag knife sword loose from its scabbard. With a cry of rage and fear, he launched himself out of the tree into the howling of change, swinging the blade in a wide arc in front of him. The female drakul, watching for the sudden movement, sprang at him the instant he broke cover. In her desperation, she hadn’t seen the prey was armed. The sharp knife cut her deeply before she could check her lunge.

Dropping back a pace, she let out a cry, then stood to face the boy, snarling, holding him at bay for her mate. The male drakul moved cautiously around the trunk and stood between the boy and the opening, effectively trapping him between himself and the female. As she continued her snarling, keeping his attention, the male prepared to attack from behind. Fangs bared, he crept slowly forward on his belly as Tomaz feinted at the female, keeping her at arms length with his flashing steel. The storms grew wild around them.

With a practiced leap, the drakul pounced, claws and fangs ready to tear and slash. Instinctively, Tomaz turned as the beast sprang, some inner warning ruling his actions. The attacker missed his mark as the boy moved. His claws found tough leather instead of soft flesh, and he became entangled in the messenger pouch. The strap ripped as the weight of the animal dragged it down the boy’s shoulder. Tomaz lost his balance, falling to his knees and dropping his sword, as the drakul prepared to attack again.

Suddenly, an arrow pierced the throat of the hunter as it fought to gain its feet, still entangled in the leather straps. Tomaz sat dazed, watching another arrow follow the fleeing female into the underbrush. Then he was being lifted by powerful arms and crushed in his father’s warm hug.

For a long moment, Tomaz was content to stay a frightened little boy, warm and safe in his father’s strong embrace, but then his sense of duty exerted itself and he struggled, crying out to be put free. Haryl, startled by his son’s reaction, set him down on his feet. Tomaz ran and extricated the mangled leather pouch from the dead drakul’s claws. Hugging it close to his chest, he turned to face his father.

“I have a message for the captain of the Guard,” he said, his voice barely rising above the wind.

Haryl nodded, tears standing unshed in the corners of his eyes, and beckoned to the captain. The soldier stepped forward and relieved the boy of his burden. Tomaz saluted smartly as he handed over the precious pouch. His duty now done, he turned back to his father, clutching him around the waist, content for a time to be just a little boy; willing to be comforted in his father’s arms.

Tears stood in Palles’ eyes too as he watched father and son mount the galla beast and turn toward DragonSwan. At a sign from the captain, the soldiers formed a Guard of Honor around the pair to escort them back to the manor.

Tomaz, safe at last, had already fallen asleep with his head on his father’s chest. Tomorrow he would be called a hero and told of his triumphant ride through Belfaun Grove, in the midst of change; but tonight, the boy dreamed of nothing more than raisintazal cake on the Eve of Yewel, and he smiled.

Olyva sat in her chamber, sipping at the t’sayne Ilsaa had brought her. She could hear the howling winds of the change even through the shutters on the windows. Palles was out there somewhere. The baby stirred within her womb, as restless as she. There was a light knock at the door and Ilsaa entered.

“It’s almost dawn, Olyva. Please, get into bed and try to rest. It won’t do anyone any good for Palles to return and find your health broken utterly.” The young midwife helped Olyva to her bed, tucking the bedding gently around her as if she were a child to be comforted.

“How is Selimka?” she asked, trying to belay her own misery. “She must be mad with worry over Tomaz and Haryl.”

“She’s holding up, Lady. She must you know, for Erkay’s sake.” Ilsaa smiled. “There’s a rare one. The boy was able to pick up on Tomaz with barely a nod. And you should have seen that herd beast’s leg. I tell you, he’s one for the Tower for certain. I’ve never seen the Talent so strong in one so young!”

“It will be hard for Selimka, though. I mean losing her son to the Lady so young. If only Tomaz is alright. I know I couldn’t bear it if anything were to happen to ...” Olyva broke off at the sound of stomping hoofs as the snorts and grumbles of the returning galls beasts overrode the sounds of the storm.

“Oh Ilsaa! Quick go see! Tell me Palles is with them,” pleaded Olyva.

Ilsaa went to the window and peered through the cracks in the storm shutter. “I can see him, Lady. Yes, they’ve got Tomaz too! It looks like they’re all back safe!” She turned back to the weeping woman in the bed and hurried to embrace her.

“There, mistress, I’ll go see what I can do to help. They’ll all be half starved, I expect, and Jika will need some help in the kitchen to get them all fed once the gallas are put up.” As Ilsaa left the room she smiled. “I’ll send Palles up first thing, Olyva.”

There was no need for Ilsaa to send Palles up to the Lady; he was bounding up the stairs before Ilsaa was even halfway to the kitchen. As they almost collided on the dark stairwell, Palles reached out to steady her before she fell.

“Oh, Master Palles,” she exclaimed, breathlessly, as she caught her balance. “The Lady Olyva is waiting for you most anxiously in her chamber.” She flushed at the feel of his strong arms encircling her slim waist.

“Steady there,” he said, releasing her. “Is she alright? I was afraid that this much excitement might prove too much strain for her.”

“There’s nothing amiss that the sight of you won’t cure, Master Palles, sir,” she said smiling up at him. “So hurry, will you? She really is most anxious! And I’m sure Jika is having fits in the kitchen with all those hungry men to feed!”

Palles laughed. “I’m sure she is at that, Ilsaa. Off you go then. I’ll see to Olyva for the rest of the night. And tomorrow too.” He winked and hurried off.

As they moved off in their separate directions, Ilsaa couldn’t help stopping to watch Palles as he continued up the stairs to his Lady Wife. It must be wonderful to have such a love, she thought wistfully. Then the sounds of revelry brought her back to her task. To the kitchen, then, to help the harried Jika. Selimka would be far too preoccupied with son and husband, so it must be just the two of them. Perhaps she would find her own love, someday. Perhaps he was waiting for her right now, in the kitchen below. With that thought in mind, she hurried along.

Jika was indeed “having fits” in the kitchen, as the hungry soldiers crowded around the table, passing bread and preserves, calling for strong honey mead and generally making nuisances of themselves. Finding the boy unharmed and the exhilaration of beating in the change had left them all in high spirits indeed.

“Oh Ilsaa, thank the goddess you’re here!!” Jika stood in the middle of the chaos, a pastry roller clutched in one hand, held out like a weapon. “What are we going to do with them all? If they keep at the mead like that, they’ll all be drunk before long! Oh what a night!”

“Well, let’s get them out of the kitchen and set up in the hall. That way, they’ll be out from under foot,” Ilsaa suggested. Between them, she and Jika got four of the soldiers to carry the heavy trestle from the kitchen to the great hall. Then, with the captain’s orders to back them up, the two women had all the men making up a camp of sorts, inside the manor’s great hall.

Soon, they were all fed and well supplied with enough mead, wine and tazal to keep them contented for the two days of change. Exhausted, Ilsaa and Jika took stock of the ruined kitchen.

“Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now,” said Ilsaa, as she removed a stained apron.

“I guess you’re right. We need to get some sleep while they do,” Jika replied as she gestured toward the hall where the sounds of revelry had died down to the grunts and snores of the sleeping soldiers.

Brun took that moment to enter the room. “Lord Alabee wishes breakfast to be delivered to his room this morning,” he said. His eyes widened as he took in the condition of the kitchen. “Have demons invaded the manor during the night, then?” he whispered, eyeing the damages.

“Not far wrong, Brun. Just a troop of very hungry soldiers in out of the change,” replied Ilsaa, her voice heavy with fatigue. “But then, I’m not all that surprised you and ‘Lord’ Alabee slept right through it all, being as far off in the south wing as you are.”

“I’m afraid if it’s breakfast Alabee wants, it’s going to be you who’s fixing it,” said Jika sourly. “Ilsaa and I are for bed.” She headed to the door, dragging the girl along with her. “You’ll find some bread and preserves on the top shelf in the pantry. You know where the t’sayne is. I’m sorry to leave you like this, Brun, but we’ve been up all night and there’ll be no dinner tonight if we don’t get some sleep as we may!”

Brun started to say something, but stopped as he realized he was talking to empty space. The two woman had left the kitchen.

©2005 by Trish Reynolds