Metal and Flesh (The Rohvim, Book 1)

14.1 Regret

"Dost thou deserve my love? Does my fork claim to nurture my body or my spoon give sustenance to my soul? I say to you, my children whom I love, you are but instruments of the Creator, and the tools in His hands, and though thy works of goodness be great, you are my children, whom I love..." -Wisdom of Rutha, 12:13

  

THEY AWOKE JUST BEFORE SUNRISE and began their march immediately. "We must reach Lofgren this morning so as to avail ourselves of any assistance the lord might lend, before we head out tomorrow," the master healer announced. They descended the hill and after half an hour the forest became less dense. A trail snaked down out of the hills, and they followed it until their way flattened out as the trees gave way to open plain. Off in the distance they could see a few lone houses surrounded by farmland, and beyond that, a small town at the foot of a far hill. It took them about two hours to cross the vast, windswept fields and reach the town.

   They entered Lofgren, a small hamlet nestled at the bottom of a large hill that blocked the early morning sun. A light mist hung in the air in the surrounding fields, obscuring the view of some of the more distant cottages and farms, while others were seen nestled in green pastures dotted with grazing cattle and lambs. The small group crossed the final field that lay between them and the outskirts of the small town, wetting their feet with the fine carpet of dew crowning the heads of the blades of grass.

   They began passing houses near the edge of the town which was still largely asleep, and made their way to the estate of the local lord. Occasionally, someone outside of their house would catch a glimpse of the travelers and, seeing the master healer-who had come much into these parts, would shout in to their wives or husbands or parents that the healer was in town, or would call over to the old man and beg him to come give respite to a loved one. The master healer told them all to come see him later in the day at the lord's estate, where he was customarily granted a space to practice his art during his visits to the town.

   They made their way up the dirt streets, climbing gradually higher and higher, until they came to a larger, but still rather shabby looking house. It was the only two storied building in the town, and was surrounded by several outbuildings, all contained within a fence of iron bars, guarded by a lone swordsman, who yawned as they approached him.

   "Greetings, sir. I trust we did not wake you?" The master healer approached the armed man with his outstretched hand. The guard clasped it in his.

   "No, healer. But it has been a long night. Please enter. The lord has knowledge of your coming and awaits you." And with that the man opened the gate, and stood aside to allow the travelers access. They passed the gate and crossed the wide lawn, choked with weeds and thistle. Behind the house, a field of grapevines lay in a tangle, with tools and implements cast about haphazardly. They approached the door, which opened to reveal a hard faced man, who glared at the healer as he walked up with arms outstretched.

   "Ah. Our healer has come back to us at last. Tell me, sir, how fare the lands to the south? I assume they are good to you to explain your long absence from us? Do the fine lords and ladies of the capital pay you handsomely for your services?" he sneered, and his arms remained to his side, though the healer's were still outstretched in greeting.

   "My lord. I indeed have been in the southward lands, and I come to warn you of an impending danger. All my days thus far have been spent as a harbinger of peace and healing, but it pains me now to report that the kingdom is under siege from some unknown danger to the north."

   At this, the old lord's eyes narrowed, and he said in a more serious tone, "Siege? Is it coming here? Why have I not heard of this yet?"

   "I know not. I only know that it has overcome the towns of Fairshore, Moorview, and even the great city of Elbeth-from which some of my companions hail from." He nodded to the group behind him.

   "This disturbs me greatly." The lord looked out to the fields beyond the town. "My scouts have informed me of a contant stream of people heading north through the lands to the east of here, and yet they appeared to be from our own kingdom, so we thought nothing of it. I wonder now if they are refugees." He focused back on the master healer. "What is your business here?"

   "We are passing through your lands, also on our way northward, to discover the source of this great evil, and with Creator's grace perhaps put an end to it, though we stop here now for rest and to provide healing and succor to your people. Should you desire it, of course." The old man added, seeing the dark look that crossed the lord's face.

   "But four months late you are, healer." He stopped, clenching his teeth. He closed his eyes and went on, "Four months too late. She's dead. My wife is dead." He opened his eyes, staring straight through the master healer. "And where were you? You knew she had ill health when you left here. I sent you messengers urging you to return, but I heard only silence in return. I ..." The man stopped. His eyes flashed with anger, and simultaneously filled with tears.

   "My lord. I'm ...." The healer paused, searching for words. "I'm sorry. I did not know she would succumb so quickly. I've been in the south trying to avert further ... but no, I have no excuse. I'm sorry, I should have returned earlier." The old man bowed low before the disheveled lord, who looked down at him, rage still in his eyes. He took a deep breath.

   "You may use the house at the far end of the estate as you customarily have for your work. Other than that, I have nothing for you." And with that he firmly closed the door in their faces.

   The group waited for the healer to speak. He did not, but stood there, facing the door, silent. After a minute, Betha approached him and put her hand on his shoulder. "It wasn't your fault, master. What could you have done?"

   The man sighed, "No, it was not my fault. But it is a tragedy nonetheless." He patted the hand on his shoulder, and led the way to a smaller, shabbier house on the north side of the estate, where he found the door unlocked, and ready to be made into a temporary healer's dwelling as he often had before. He said to the others, "Get some sleep. Later today we may restock our provisions in town, and we will doubtless be needed for some healing before the day is out." The old man entered a small side office and gently closed the door.