Cathal saw the smoke rising into the blue of the sky and knew without a doubt that there was no way he could get to the village in time to save it. The smoke drifted to the nostrils of his horse filling the battle-hardened charger with anxiety. He pranced and chomped at the bit, tugging at Cathal’s firm hand. The smell spoke of war and the horse was always battle ready.
“Easy Toby,” the man said placing his large strong hand on the horse’s mane. He dropped his fingers through the thick hair and soothingly stroked the horse’s neck. The stallion eased a little bit and Cathal nodded in approval relaxing in the saddle and looking back up towards the thick stream of smoke climbing up into the sky, dissipating into the clouds. “We will get there soon enough to aide the survivors and find out who is responsible. There is nothing we can do for them now.” The guilt could not be hidden from his voice. Though he had no idea of what had happened in the village and no way of preventing it had he been aware trouble was in the area, it was still the way of most to feel the guilt as they came upon the destruction.
He let loose the rein and let Toby go, riding at an easy lope through the forest, keeping to the shadows and keeping his eyes and ears open to all that surrounded him aware of every little creature that called this place home and those that might be trespassing as well. He trusted Toby’s instincts, watching the dark horse’s ears flick back and forth to each and every sound that filtered into them. They came upon no one, enemy or friend, giving Cathal the hint that survivors would be few and whatever enemy the village had was not traveling this way if indeed they had moved on. Or, he mused, it could be a simple village fire caused by a milk cow tipping over a lantern. His instincts told him otherwise and one reason he was still alive was because of those instincts. Preparing himself for the worst he topped a final hill and slowed Toby to a trot to see the village, or what was left of the village. There was hardly enough to call it a village now. Not one house remained standing, nor one barn, not a single building. He could see where the buildings had been by the charred squares on the ground. At the edge of the village he pulled back on the reins asking the horse to wait. Toby snorted in his protest and pawed at the ground.
“We must wait,” he explained soothingly. Toby snorted again. Cathal chuckled. “Just like a woman, you are Toby,” he said. “Have to have the last word.” When satisfied that the enemy had left he gave Toby his head and they walked to the first pile of rubble. Here he dismounted and began sifting through the ashes to find clues and by some miracle any survivors. Despite his talents in investigation he found no clues as to the culprit and was halfway through the village before he found any sign that there had even been life in the village.
He stopped in the road, resting his hands on his hips and looking from one side of the village to the other. “Strangest thing,” he commented and kicked his toe at what remained of a blanket. To his surprise there came a whimper from beneath the blanket. He looked over his shoulder at Toby and then knelt down and picked up the blanket uncovering a young girl. When their eyes met, her large soft brown locking with his deep blue, the girl sprang to her feet and sprinted away from him only to collapse in a heap of bones and flesh a few yards from him. The knight rubbed his chin and looked up at his equine companion. Toby’s head lifted, his neck arched, nostrils flared, and his eyes stared at the interesting little creature.
“Well, well,” he said as he stood. He walked to the girl and scooped her crumpled body into his strong arms. She fit like a ragged doll in his hold and though he could carry her with one arm he held her in both, ever so gently lest he break her scrawny body with his hold. “She’s but a runt, Toby, and barely that.” He held his find up for the horse to investigate. Toby sniffed her body and shook his head pinning his ears back and barring his teeth at the smells the girl carried with her.
“Magic then is it, Toby?” Cathal mused having seen this expression on Toby before. Toby bore the taint of magic before and lived to hate it and those that wielded it. This girl was not a wielder of such but had been touched by one who did. “Well, that would explain such a scene, wouldn’t it now? How it is completely gone.” he turned his body again taking in the mess of what used to be a village before them. “Only such as a wizard’s battle could make such a site. Even bandits leave something of their handy work.” Cathal held the scrap of a girl close to his chest as he continued his search for survivors. When they had reached the end of the village he looked down at her. “Only you,” he whispered. “And I’m not even sure you were part of this village.” Her pale skin told him she was not part of this region and her scrawniness told him she’d not been fed well. He looked around him and sighed. Caring for her would greatly delay him. Yet, not for a second did he consider leaving her to the wolves.
“What are we to do?” he asked aloud and in response she mumbled something completely incoherent and snuggled closer to his chest. “Yes,” he said with a nod though he had not understood a bit of it, “rest would do us both good.” He turned his head to his horse and motioned with his chin to the forest. “Come Toby,” and he and the horse walked together to the trees surrounding what remained of the once civilized village. Just inside the tree line a small creek made its way through the forest growth. Here he lay the girl down and began setting up camp. He started a small fire, unsaddled Toby, gave him a good rubdown and let him loose to graze then he turned his full attention to the girl. “You child,” he said as though she could hear him, “are a mess. But then what else could we expect eh?” Taking some water from the creak an the rag he used to polish his saddle he set to work cleaning the ash, soot, and mud from her.
“What have we under this mud pie?” he asked in a soothing voice as he wiped her face clean. “Well, if I must say I do believe I’ve found a child beneath all this dirt. And, a lass to boot. Well, well,” he clicked his tongue. “A pretty little lass too. It has me wondering what such a girl is doing in such a place as this.” He brushed her chestnut hair back behind her head and tested for any knots that may be on her skull. He nodded when he’d found none. “A good head you’ve on your shoulders, lass.”
No comments:
Post a Comment