Simon reined his horse to a halt when they came within shouting distance of the bridge. A squad of guards, armed with spears and bows, barred their path, and an officer in armor stood before them. On the far end of the bridge, clusters of huts lay on either side of the road, but wood from a fire only rose from the ones to the right. The bridge spanned a deep valley, a cataract of white water roaring at the bottom of its steep granite walls.  The mid-day sun glinted from the sides of wet rocks along its banks far below, and the spray from a waterfall just upstream made a rainbow halfway down the gorge.

Simon raised his hand in greeting, his leather gauntlet dusty from the road.

“Well met, good sir,” he called out, “We wish to cross to Booda.”

“Go back!” the officer replied loudly, “None may come into our lands from this accursed place!”

“We’re not from Pesht,” Simon replied calmly, using his knees to urge his horse to walk a little closer. He stopped when one of the archers lifted his bow and pulled his arrow back to fire.

“Duke Kyrali has decreed that none may come from Pesht!” the officer shot back, “Now go!”

Simon looked about the border post, then glanced down at the gorge. The sides weren’t exactly sheer cliffs, but the ancient, misused trail that ran to the bottom looked treacherous enough to claim at least one horse and rider on the way down and back up, even without the detachment of soldiers watching every step.

Simon looked back at the soldiers and called out, “Is there nothing that can be done? I am the escort of Lady Piroska of Tanahuk, and she has business in Booda.”

The officer considered the three riders for a moment. Finally, he stepped forward to within speaking distance.

“Is it just the three of you then?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“Why the pony? Did you lose a child along the way?”

“The lady insisted. I have no idea why she wants the smelly thing to come along.”

The officer examined the riders again.  His mouth worked as his eyes measured their clothing and trappings, seeming to weigh the situation in his mind.

“Since you don’t seem to be rabble trying to get away from the plague, here’s what I can do for you,” he finally said, “You stay here for a month. If you don’t get sick, I’ll let you go. If any of you get sick, my men will kill all of you and I’ll have your bodies burned.”

“My mistress needs to be in the capitol as soon as possible.”

“It’s either that, or you turn around and go back the way you came.”

“That’s inconvenient, but if that’s all that can be done, there are worse fates.”

The commander met Simon’s eyes with a hard gaze, “This isn’t a free service. Everything you have is mine. If you’re good guests, I’ll let you walk out of here with the clothes on your back.”

“My mistress will not want to walk,” Simon said.

“That’s not my concern,” the officer said curtly, “Those are my terms. Agree or go back.”

“Unfortunate,” Simon replied with a sigh, “but it appears we have no choice.” Behind him, Erika looked furious, but held her tongue.

The officer signaled to his men, and they retreated across the bridge. Simon and the two women followed them over the gorge, then to the unused clutch of buildings. The trio dismounted, then were herded into one of the dilapidated huts. The officer watched as Gnarlthing was handed over, as well as the pouch of coins which Erika kept on her belt and everything else they carried.

“You’ll stay in there for a month. You will touch no-one, nor shall you speak to anyone, understand?” the officer said sternly.

“We understand, good sir,” Erika said, “But what are we to do for a month?”

“Entertain yourselves, my lady. One of my men will be by to feed you every morning and evening. Tip the slop bucket out the window in the back when you use it,” he replied, turning to leave. Erika did her best to burn a hole in the back of his tunic with her glare as he went. His men barred the door, then led their horses and the mule toward the buildings on the other side of the encampment. Simon watched them go. He noted that the officer went into the hut next to the stable, where their horses were led.

“Why didn’t you fight, and where is Hollo?” Erika demanded.

“My lady, there were five men with spears, four archers, and an officer with a sword on the bridge,” Simon replied, “There are at least twice that many on this side. As for where Hollo went, he’s about. He’s a wanted man on this side of the border, so I guess he didn’t care to chance being recognized.”

“You should have found another way across!”

“Princess, this is the only bridge for a hundred leagues in either direction, and I’m sure they’re just as rigorously guarded.”

“So we just sit here for a month?” Greta said.

“It would appear so.”

“I should have taken the damned boat,” Erika hissed in disgust, “At least then I’d have had a bed to sleep in.”

Two thin blankets lay in one corner of the hut, and a bucket sat under the window. Other than that, the place was bare of furnishings. The wattle and dob walls were dingy and damaged from want of care.

“Well, it’s going to be a long month unless we find something to keep ourselves occupied,” Simon sighed as he took a seat on the packed earth floor next to the door. He could hear the guards shuffling around in the yard outside, and the caw of a crow echoed through the gorge behind their prison. The sound brought a smile to his lips.

That evening, a soldier came to the hut and lowered two buckets through the window, one with bread in it, the other half full of water. Simon tore the dense, stale loaf and distributed it to the women. They ate in silence as the light of sundown streamed through the open window, taking turns cupping handfuls of warm, sulphurous water from the bucket. Once the sun set, the darkness inside the hut was almost absolute.

“Well, good night, my ladies,” Simon said as he lay down in front of the door, “I wonder if this counts as our first day.”

Erika shook her head and muttered to herself as she wrapped herself in one of the blankets, while Greta lay down next to her. Simon lay quietly for a few moments, listening as the women fell asleep and the guards made their rounds. The last of the spring rains pattered against the hard-packed dirt of the yard outside the door and on the hut’s thatched roof.

At least the roof doesn’t leak, Simon thought as he drifted off to sleep.

Other episodes can be found here.  The entire anthology can be purchased at Amazon.

Hollo placed the last stone over Soren’s grave as the early morning sun peeked over the top of the pines surrounding the meadow they had used as a camp the night before. In the valley below, a huge column of black smoke rose from where Taszar had been, but his sharp eyes no longer saw the old woman who had set it alight.

He stood and stretched as Simon led the women over. Greta had wept softly as she went about her duties.  Erika, on the other hand, kept a stony expression on her face, betraying her grief with only a stray tear or two that burned hot tracks down her cheeks. The women wore clean clothes, both because they wished to honor Soren, and because Simon had burned the clothes they had worn as they rode through the village the night before.

Erika wore the plainest dress she had, which was of a deep green velvet embroidered with silver flowers. Greta’s dress matched the one she had worn before, made of soft wool dyed the color of oak leaves in autumn.

Simon had cursed himself for not bringing along plainer clothes for the princess, but had cursed most vociferously when he found that no spare set of traveling clothes was in the bundle Hollo had spirited away from the camp. He had burned his clothing, too, and now wore the black leather breeches and armor, with two gryphons embroidered on its chest in gold thread, which he normally wore only in battle. There was no other clothing for him to wear, and the presence of the women kept him from going about naked until he could find something more suitable.

“My lady,” Hollo said solemnly, bowing low. He looked exhausted after traveling all night to retrieve his pony and catch up with the group after they had traveled up into the hills above the village. His clothes had also gone into the fire, but the guide had an identical set in his saddle bags.

“Master Guide,” the princess said simply, her eyes, brimming with tears, averted from Soren’s grave. Simon had awoken her when he found the captain dead from the wound to his head. Hollo had found them by the light of their campfire soon thereafter, and both men had labored until past sunrise to dig him a shallow grave.

Greta washed the body and dressed him in his armor before Simon and Hollo gently placed him in the hole they had dug. Hollo prayed as Simon placed Soren’s sword in his dead hands, then both men labored to cover the body with several layers of stone from the nearby creek.

“A good man,” Simon said simply.

“Yes,” Erika said, emotion cracking her voice, “I will remember his service.”

Hollo looked up at the sun. “We’d best be going, my lady,” he said, “We need to be away from here before the Lord of Pesht sends men looking for your attackers.”

Erika nodded gravely, then leaned down and lay her bandaged hand on the stones of Soren’s grave. Rising, she turned and walked to her horse.

Other episodes can be found here.  The entire anthology can be purchased at Amazon.

They rode down the trail until they came to a dry stream bed, which ran to the north. Simon turned there, taking them out of the hills and onto the valley floor just as the sun touched the mountains to the west. Soon, they rode in darkness, their way lit only by the stars.

Every so often, Simon would reach down to touch Soren’s breast and count his breaths. The soldier continued to breathe, but made few sounds and no movement. When Simon touched the bandages around his head, he could feel the wet of his blood seeping through them.

Simon looked up at the stars and whispered a prayer to his family’s gods for Soren.

“He can be a hard man,” he said, “but he’s loyal and a good warrior. Watch over him for me.”

The stars blinked down at him coldly, and no message of hope or comfort repaid him for his prayer.

Their horses stumbled through several fields left to fallow, but when they came upon a narrow lane of packed earth, they found their footing. After that, their progress was slow, but steady, and soon the forms of houses and barns loomed out of the darkness as they passed.

“Can’t we have a torch?” Greta asked plaintively after a tree, which she hadn’t seen, smacked her in the face with the end of a branch.

“Hush,” Erika ordered, “Simon’s trying to secret us across to the village, and that’ll give us away!”

The path turned to the west as they crossed a bridge over a small river, its water babbling through the bridges pilings as it went. The road on the other side was of stone and seemed well maintained compared to the dirt track they had been following.

“We should see the village soon,” Simon said quietly, “Hollo said it sits on that water, and it’s tucked right up against the hills.”

They rode on as a sliver of moon rose over the horizon. It was not bright enough to see details, but now they could make out farms as they came upon them. No dogs barked as they passed, nor did they see any lights or other evidence of people.

“It’s all abandoned,” Erika said.

“The bard at the tavern told me about this,” Simon replied, “He said that entire swaths of the countryside were deserted from the plague.”

“I thought that was up by the capitol?”

“Branka must have been wrong. There ought to at least have been a watchman on that bridge, and I’ve never come this close to farms at night without some cur waking up the entire household. There’s nobody here.”

The road turned to follow the river and rose to meet the hills in the distance. The only sound they heard was the water as it moved over stones in its bed and the clop of their horses’ hooves on the paving stones.

Finally, just as the moon set, Simon caught sight of a light ahead. He hissed to the women and pointed. The women started to speed their mounts toward the village ahead, but Simon raised a hand to stop them.

“Patience, ladies,” he said, “The captain needs us to be steady.”

After another half hour of riding, they came to the outskirts of the village. The buildings were dark, and by the light of the stars and the fire in the village’s central marketplace, which was what they had spied as they approached, Simon could make out doors and windows hanging open. Further in, the foundations of buildings remained where they had been pulled or burned down, leaving holes like open graves on either side of the road.

Simon gently halted his horse as they came to the center of the village, a plaza covered with the ashes of what must have been a huge fire. A smaller pyre blazed atop the ashes now. Erika could see the legs of chairs and other furniture fueling it, and the princess’ breath caught in shock when she saw the tiny body, wrapped in bedsheets, burning atop it.

The still form of an old woman kneeled next to the fire, her head bowed as if in prayer. Her face was streaked with soot, as was the plain brown and green dress she wore. A golden brooch, decorated with red and white stones to take the shape of a flying dragon, lay on her breast. Next to her, a staff of polished and engraved wood and several torches lay in a neat stack. Simon dismounted and approached her.

“Is this Taszar?” he said as he stepped closer.

“It was,” the old woman croaked, “once upon a time.”

“What happened here?” Erika called from atop her horse.

“Everyone died. Everyone,” the woman replied, standing up. Simon could almost hear her bones groan at the effort. She was stooped with old age, and she used the staff to support herself as she lifted her head and examined the strangers.

“Two weeks,” she said, “two weeks ago things were just fine here. Now, I’m all that’s left.”

“We were looking for the healer,” Simon said.

“No healer here, not anymore,” the woman said, “Old Katta is all that’s left.”

“The plague?”

“Everyone got sick, even the animals. Whole families would lay down at sunset and not rise with the sun. Now, they’re all gone.”

“Did nobody escape?” Greta asked. She clutched at the throat of her dress, looking around at the empty houses.

“Some tried. The Count’s men stopped them on the other side of the mountains and wouldn’t let them pass, so they came back here to die.”

The crone was wracked with a spasm of coughing, which doubled her over as she tried to catch her breath. Finally, the fit ceased, and she spit a gobbet of red-tinged phlegm onto the ashes at her feet.

“Won’t be long for me, either,” she said, leaning on her cane.

“When did the healer die?” Simon asked.

“Oh, I didn’t die,” Katta replied, trying to crack a smile, but failing, “I just gave out. So much death, and nothing I could do. My power faded as I watched them die.”

“We have a hurt man here,” Erika said, “Can you not help him?”

“Nay, it’s best I don’t try,” Katta said, turning toward the princess, “I’ve no power left to heal him, and I’d just spread the contagion to all of you.”

Simon nodded sadly. “Is there anything we can do for you?” he asked gently.

“There’s nothing to be done. By the time the sun rises, I will be with my children and their children in the next world. You’ll only join our fate if you come much closer.”

Simon turned and remounted his horse. He solemnly raised a hand to the old woman, who returned the gesture before falling into another coughing fit. He reined his horse back onto the road and led the women away from the pyre.

Katta watched them go, then kneeled in the ashes again. The words of a prayer returned to her lips as she lifted her head to watch the flames lick up toward the stars. After a long while, the fire burned down to a bed of coals shimmering in the dark. The old woman picked up one of the torches, lit it, and then hobbled toward one of the buildings near the plaza.

Other episodes can be found here.  The entire anthology can be purchased at Amazon.

Hollo and Simon gently placed Soren on the tarp they had strung between his horse and Simon’s. The soldier’s head was swathed in bandages, and his breathing was shallow, but regular as a clock.

Hollo looked at Simon, saying, “I’ll meet you on the other side of the village after I fetch my pony. She’s been tied to that tree for hours, and if I don’t hurry, something’s going to eat her.”

Simon nodded, and Hollo trotted back up the trail. Erika, already mounted, watched him go. She paid no mind to the bandage around her wounded hand as she took up her reins.

“Can you find this village without him?”

“I’ve never been there, but I saw it from the hills this morning. If we can get to the valley floor before sunset, I’ll be able to get us there.”

“How is the captain?”

“He’s still breathing, my lady, and every so often he makes a noise or tries to mumble, so there’s hope.”

Erika nodded sadly. “Such a good man,” she said quietly. Greta’s breath hitched, as if she were going to start crying again, but she only stared forward from her saddle.

“That he is,” Simon replied, “Let’s get going. There’s not much time before dark.”

~~~

They rode in silence for a time. The path opened up as they followed it around a large hill, and Erika brought her horse up to ride next to Simon.

“I never thanked you,” she said.

“No need, princess,” Simon replied, “I’m sorry you were wounded.”

“Better this than to be dragged to Pesht or worse.”

“Yes,” Simon said with a knowing nod, “it can always get worse.”

“True,” Erika said, looking down at her hands, “I just don’t understand”

“Understand what, my lady?”

“He… he hit me,” she said as she looked over to Simon, “He struck me with a bare hand.”

“That happens in a fight,” he replied drily.

“But, that’s not how it’s supposed to work. It’s not fair.”

“Princess, in a fight, there is no ‘fair.’ He wanted to hurt you, you didn’t want to get hurt. Whatever either of you did to disappoint the other is what’s fair. Blades, axes, spears, teeth, fists, whatever’s handy, you use them all to win.”

“But my teachers, my father…”

“They taught you how to fence, my lady, how to spar, but not how to fight. I pray there isn’t a next time, but if there is, remember the difference. It almost cost you your life today.”

Erika said nothing, but rode on in stony silence. In her mind, she replayed the fight over and over, and compared it to her lessons.

“You’re alive, my lady, and he’s not going to hurt anyone again,” Simon said, guessing her thoughts. “Nothing else matters.”

Other episodes can be found here.  The entire anthology can be purchased at Amazon.