The Paladin and The Healer

Deep in the forests of the Andrian Forest, Lucas rode his big gray gelding hard, sacrificing stealth in favor of speed. It had been a grueling 3 days and nights pursuit and they were both beginning to feel the strain. The stops had been brief, more to rest the horse than to rest himself; he could eat and drink in the saddle, and he had found herbs along the way that would keep him alert for a while longer. The men he pursued were close now and if Lucas read the trail correctly they were down to three.

The chase had begun on the northern side of the forest, the small group of men he was pursuing had escaped from a battle between the forces of a dark wizard and the small army that Lucas had brought together. There had been five in the group originally. One had succumbed to wounds after only a few hours, another had lain in wait for Lucas and the ambush had nearly worked. There should only be three remaining, but they were the healthiest and most desperate. They knew they were being pursued.

The southern side of the forest was near now, beyond there were a few villages and the Great Northern Market road. If they reached the road Lucas had only a 50-50 chance of following. Letting them slip away was not an option.

He straightened his back and Ironhoof slowed to a walk, then stopped. Lucas glanced down at the puddle by the game trail he was following. Yes, three sets of footprints, heavy soldiers boots from the look. The edges of the print were very sharp, water was still seeping in. They were close! He could almost smell them.

Soon, he would have them. He raised his hands, nudged with his heels and Ironhoof jumped into a canter again.

Mary liked fall evenings more than any other time, especially days like today. There was no one needing healing, the herb garden required no attention, the stacks of firewood were neat and stacked high under the eaves of her cottage, ready to see her through the upcoming winter, there was a warm fire burning in the hearth and a savory stew nearly ready to eat hanging over it. Her sigh was mostly of contentment, tinged just a bit with loneliness.

The small three room cabin was set back from the market road and nearly two miles from the nearest village. She liked the solitude, for the most part, though not by nature shy or withdrawn she knew that others found her uncomfortable to be around. She was not ugly but she was far from beautiful, a fact she had been schooled in almost every day while young. She also had an unwelcome quick mind, boys had found her company intimidating, so avoided her. Solitude was better. Solitude was not cruel.

She stepped around the garden and walked toward the edge of the forest, stopping when she came to the grave. Old Metta's grave. Dear Metta, Mary missed her and loved her still.

Metta's accepting her as apprentice had been Mary's salvation. A healer needed a quick mind and a healer usually did not marry. Common folk were often uncomfortable around a healer, so they lived apart from the village. It was, in all ways, the situation that most suited Mary. And if the winter nights felt cold and long, it was a small price to pay.

Mary set the small bundle of flowers near the wooden marker, then took a few moments to tidy up the grave, removing the old flowers now wilted, and tossing aside a stick or two that had fallen from the big oak.

Mary said a few words to the goddess that Metta could rest after her long life of helping others, then sat on the nearby stump. Typically Mary began listing the latest news.

"Old Miller came by yesterday. I told him that cut would get infected if he did not keep it clean, but you know how he would never listen to such advise. I believe I can control it and he will not lose his hand. Pray that I do, it would be hard on him."

"Ruth is with child. It seems she cannot keep her hands off Stephan, despite my warning. So we will most likely see a wedding sometime soon, unless she asks me to end it. I told her the option was open if she did not wait too long. We will see what she says, but you know what a lack-wit she is. She has more bosom than brain, you said so when she was 15 years old.

"Greta is saying this will be the coldest winter in decades, and we will have more snow than we can measure. When I asked her how she knew she said she felt it in her bones. That is a gift I was not aware that bones possessed, so as you always said, I am still learning."

The wind rose briefly, which made the leaves rustle dryly. Mary shivered and wished she had brought a shawl.

"Metta, I know you always said that I would grow accustomed to being alone, but I do miss you. I even find myself missing the way you would smack me with a spoon when I made a mistake. 'Tis true, although it pains me to admit it."

"Oh, are you feeling lonely, girly? We can help with that." The voice was sudden and harsh. Mary fought down the shriek of shock as he jolted to her feet and spun around.

There were three men facing her, and it would be hard to imagine three more unsavory men.

Unshaven and dirty, all three bore wounds of one sort or another, hastily treated but obvious. All three wore leather jerkins sewn with rings of metal. Some type of armor perhaps. All three carried short swords at their belts, two carried pole arms and the third a cross-bow. All three were grinning cruelly and had a hungry look in their eyes.

Mary was instantly afraid. "You startled me, I did not hear you approach. Did you come down the road? I see you are injured, do you seek healing? I can offer it, and I have adequate food if you are hungry." Stop babbling, girl, she heard Metta say in her memory. Mary put her hands behind her back and twisted her hands together nervously.

The tallest of the three spoke, "Aye, we will take some food. We've been running for three days through the cursed forest and hot food will be welcome." He looked her up and down in a way that made Mary want to wash. "We'll be taking a few other things as well. You are an ugly thing, aren't you. Well, no matter, it isn't your face we want."

Mary took a step back, her body tensed as she braced to run. It was two miles to the village but if they had been on the run for three days perhaps she could beat them. Her hands tightened in her long skirt, preparing to lift it and run as fast as she could.

All three men leered cruelly. "Don't be thinking of running, girly. Run or fight us and we'll have to hurt you. Course, Grunt there will probably hurt you anyway, he's like that."

The one that smiled must be Grunt. He was big, broad and powerful looking, with a vicious set to his mouth and no intelligence in his eyes. Mary felt her jaw start to tremble and fought it back.

She took another step back as all three men lunged at her. She had not been paying attention to her surroundings and found herself falling backwards over the stump she had been sitting on. She hit the ground hard.

Rough hands grabbed her arms and jerked her to her feet. Grunt had her right arm in his enormous paw, digging his fingers in hard. The third man held her other arm and the leader stood facing them. The two steadied her on her feet as the leader approached with a dagger in his hand.

"Let's see what she's got to offer, eh boys?"

"No, please, you don't have to do this." Mary was startled to realize the words were coming from her mouth.

"Yes, keep begging, girly, we like that." The dagger was slipped almost delicately inside the high neck of her dress and with slow careful motions he sawed down through the bodice.

At her waist he grabbed the two sides of the slit and jerked her bodice down. There was a brief flash of pain in her shoulders as the material parted and fell away.

Mary knew she was barely passable in the face, but she also knew her body was very fair. Her breasts had always been a source of secret pride for her. Now she hated the firm rounded globes. Perhaps if she had teats like Metta's they would have abandoned their game.

"Well, well. What do you think boys?" The leader reached out and grabbed one breast, squeezing hard with one rough hand. "Nice, eh? Nicer than I've seen in awhile. Grunt, you are last, then you can chew on them all you want."

"Please, I am begging you. You do not have to hurt me. Please."

All three laughed. The leader shifted his grip to her nipples, stiff from the cool breeze, and twisted cruelly. She whimpered helplessly.

The leader, indeed all three, stopped and looked toward the woods.

"Bloody hell, you told me we had lost him!"

Mary heard it then, the steady sound of hoof-beats coming from the woods, growing louder.

She took in a deep breath to scream, it was muffled by Grunt covering her mouth with his big dirty hand. The touch of a knife at her throat as all three took up positions behind her. Despite the still present fear she felt a surge of contempt. The cowards were hiding behind a helpless woman.

Ironhoof burst into the clearing, Lucas was already scanning for whatever he could find that might lead him to his quarry.

He was surprised as he took in the area. A small cabin, neat and thatched. A garden behind. Off the the right, three men hiding behind a woman. The three he sought, of course. The woman's bodice was in tatters, she was naked to the waist. Clearly he had interrupted them at play. He pushed the woman from his mind. No distractions now.

He dropped the reins and went for bow and arrow. Guiding Ironhoof with his knees, the horse turned around, Lucas raised the bow, sighted and released smoothly. The one to the right of the woman took the arrow in his left eye. The woman gave a short shriek of surprise as the dead man fell. Lucas raised a second shaft, sighted and released as a crossbow bolt hit his left shoulder. The bolt pierced jerkin, shirt, mail, the soft leather under tunic and the skin and muscle beneath. There was a sickening flash of pain. The jerk spoiled his shot, the man on the other side took the shot in the belly with a grunt.

Lucas dropped the bow as his fingers went numb. He tried to push aside the pain as he went for the saber at his belt. He grit his teeth, trying to hold focus on the remaining man.

"Stop there, paladin. Draw that sword and I'll cut her throat open." One was dead, one was probably dying, the third stood close behind the woman, one hand covering her mouth, the other held a wicked dagger to her throat. Her eyes were wide in fear, but she had not panicked. She held perfectly still, watching Lucas with hope in her eyes.

Blood was running down Lucas' arm and chest, he was bleeding copiously. He had to end this quickly.

Showing off a bit he turned Ironhoof with his knees until they faced the two and put his right fist on his hip. Which was, incidentally, within reach of the dagger on his belt.

"Five of you ran from the battle, four are dead," Lucas said with scorn. "And the last cowers behind a woman. Do you think she will save you?"

"I think you will get down off that big horse and step away or I'll cut off her head and throw it to you, paladin."

Lucas fought down a grin. He had been planning a risky throw with his dagger but this was much better. The woman's shoulders slumped in defeat as Lucas threw one leg over Ironhoof's neck and cautiously slid down. He fought back a wave of dizziness and took the reins in his right hand.

"Let her go and you can have the horse."

The man laughed. "You must think I'm stupid, paladin."

The truth nearly slipped out, but Lucas fought the urge down. "I think you have not thought clearly. How can you hold the dagger to her neck, mount, then pull her up behind you? I promise you, you will leave yourself open and a second is all I need. Let her go, when she is inside I'll step back and you can have the horse. You have my word."

He was tempted. Tired from three days of little sleep and less food, he was probably not thinking clearly. Hatred and fear for his pursuer probably did not help. There was nothing of intelligence in the piggish brown eyes. This was a bulky, unpleasant looking thug, who probably let others do his thinking for him.

Lucas resisted the urge to grip his own left arm. He was starting to feel dizzy from blood loss.

Suddenly the fool made a decision, and it was the decision Lucas was hoping for. He let the woman go and she ran for the door of the cottage. Lucas dropped the reins, patted the gray neck and said softly, "Guard." Then stepped back ten or twelve unsteady steps. He shifted his right hand to the pommel of his dagger, just in case, but it was almost over. He blinked to try and regain focus.

The man stepped close and grabbed the reins. Hauling Ironfoot around so he could watch Lucas as he mounted, he stepped up and swung a leg wide. Ironfoot, true to his training, neighed loudly and bucked hard. The man went over the horse's head and crashed messily to the ground.

Lucas pulled his dagger and readied himself to step in and finish the job. It was not needed. Ironhoof slammed a big hoof down in apparent disdain, there was an unpleasant crunching sound, and the horse walked calmly over to Lucas and lipped at the hand Lucas held out to him.

"Good work, old man. Perhaps I should have told the fool you wouldn't let anyone but me mount, huh?" Ironhoof threw his mane as though disagreeing. "Yes, you are probably right. Come, let us see how the woman is."

The horse followed him placidly toward the door, which opened as they approached. The woman stepped out with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She scanned the carnage then turned to look at him soberly. Lucas had time to offer her a pleasant smile before the world started going gray and he dropped to his knees. "Oh, I almost forgot..." He dropped on his face.

Lucas was not sure how long it was before he started regaining awareness. There were smells, pleasant, spicy, sounds of someone moving nearby, the heat of a fire to his right, and a fierce throbbing pain in his left shoulder. He was on his back, under a blanket. When did he find a bed to lay in?

When Lucas opened his eyes he was in a room he did not recognize. Sunlight streamed in the windows placed to either side of the wide hearth. A fire burned there and the room was comfortably warm. Sunlight? It had been early evening. How long had he been out?

A sound made him turn his head. The other side of the room was workroom of some sort, a long sturdy table, hanging dried plants, cabinets, knives, bowls, various other accouterments. And a woman. Oh yes, the woman. She was wearing a dark, plain dress which did nothing to improve her homely face. Well, that was not fair. She had smooth, dark skin, thick black hair in a plait to her waist and a serious expression. He remembered a shapely body too, but tried to push that thought away as unworthy.

Lucas tried to shift but the pain in his shoulder magnified, he looked and could see that his shoulder was bound in neat bandages. The woman's work? Probably.

He tried to sit up but all he accomplished was a groan of pain. He felt so weak.

The woman looked up. "I see my hero has awoken." She stepped around the table to his side and brushed her work roughened fingers along his forehead.

"I am hardly a hero," Lucas muttered. "Are you well, my lady? They did not hurt you, I hope."

"No, although what they had planned for me would have been unpleasant. Thank you, sir, for your timely arrival. And please, do not call me 'my lady', I am as common as dirt. Call me Mary."

"I am pleased to meet you, Mary, call me Lucas. You are a healer?"

"Yes, you could tell?"

Lucas motioned to the neat bandages. "You are not the first healer who's bandages I have worn. How badly am I wounded? How long was I unconscious?"

"You were unaware from yesterday evening to this morning." She pulled a stool over and sat beside the cot, looking down at Lucas with a serious expression. "The wound is serious, I am afraid. The bolt passed through your shoulder, it bled copiously before I could stitch and bind it. Somehow it missed both your lung and your collar bone, but there was some damage to the muscles. I have done what I could, but it will be painful for at least a month and you must not use your left arm over-much while it heals. I am chiefly concerned that the wound not go bad, there is a poultice under the bandage, I have hopes that will be enough. How do you feel?"

Lucas took a moment to take stock. "Thirsty, could I have some water?"

"Yes, at once. You lost a great deal of blood, your body needs fluids." She busied herself for a moment pouring a cup of water for him. She helped him sit up and steadied him as he drank.

"I have some broth if you are hungry. And I will brew a tea for you. You will not like the taste, but it will help with the pain and hopefully prevent infection."

She, Mary, seemed friendly enough and was certainly competent, but she did not show much expression on her face. She seemed guarded. Lucas wondered why.

Mary knew she was babbling like a witless fool, Metta would have smacked her with a spoon, but she had been alone for too long and she was nervous. This man, Lucas, was very handsome and that made her uncertain.

"Some broth perhaps, in a moment. I wanted to ask further questions."

Mary helped him to sit up and watched as a wave of dizziness caused his eyes to become unfocused for a moment. Then he looked down at his bare chest.

"Uh, was it you that brought me in and arranged me on this cot?"

"Yes, I live here alone. You helped as you could but you were not truly aware."

"And my clothes? My gear?"

"I undressed you and cleaned you up. Try not to blush, you are not the first man I have cared for." Not the first, but certainly the fairest. He was tall and very fit. His skin was sun-bronzed, he had vibrant green eyes and long brown hair, with strands of silver, that he wore pulled back. Mary thought he must be 10 or 12 years older than she was.

"Are the bodies still where they fell?"

"No, with the help of your horse I dragged them into the forest. I thought to bury them but, Goddess forgive me, I could not find that much charity in my heart."

"My horse... helped you?"

"Yes, after I removed his bridle and saddle he helped drag the corpses off."

"You removed his bridle and saddle? And he did not... object? And then he helped you?"

"Yes, he is a very gentle and affectionate animal, I find. My father was a carter and so I had some familiarity with horses. I brushed him and he spent the night in the lean-to on the side of the cottage. Why are you frowning?"

Lucas was frankly amazed. "Nothing, it is only that he is not usually so... affectionate with those he does not know. I will have to have a word with him about that."

From the window Lucas heard a soft nicker that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. He turned and saw Ironhoof looking in.

Mary sighed with exasperation. "Have a word with him about looking in windows. At first I left him staked in the side yard, but he kept pulling the stake up." She stood and stormed to the window. "I told you that you could see him when he is up and about and not before. Now go back to your grazing, you rude beast. Shoo."

Lucas was even more amazed when Ironhoof went away with all the appearance of meekness. As Mary came back and sank back down on the stool Lucas watched her with surprise. "He must like you a great deal."

"Well, he is a fine animal, truly."

"You talk to him as though he understands every word you say."

She shrugged, "He acts as though he understands. Would you care for some broth now?"

"Yes, I think so, if it is not too much trouble."

She sniffed in a way that made Lucas smile. He was beginning to think her gruffness was not genuine. The thought was amusing and he found himself warming to her because of it.

An iron kettle hung near the fire, she tipped it and poured a measure of liquid into a clay mug, which she passed to Lucas. He raised it and sipped, then took a deeper swallow. "This is excellent, thank you."