Chapter Three
Uta cupped her hands and put them into the clear water. The freezing temperature
made her flinch, but she dipped some of the water out, and poured it on some of
the shallow cuts on her arms and legs from the wolven’s careless dash through
the dense forest. This task was quickly done, too quickly for her sake, because
she dreaded the next. She gingerly probed her left forearm. From what she could
tell, it was a simple break, and with a moderate amount of meditation should be
healed in a week or so. Even so, she knew that setting the bone was NOT going to
be pleasant.
She listened for sounds of Jawn stirring as she wandered near the bank trying to
find suitable splint, but she heard nothing. A long breath escaped her lips, and
her focus slipped back to her unhappy chore. With her arm braced against a
water-smoothed rock, she swiftly jerked the bone back into place, igniting a
fiery pain in her limb. Hurriedly she secured the wood to her arm with several
laces taken from her dress.
The pain was more than she expected, and as she was tying the last knots, her
vision blurred, and her head became heavy. She had barely finished her work
before the heaviness dragged her down. Her weary shoulders rested on the soft
creek-side greens, cool and comfortable. A dark, lanky figure came into her
bleary vision, just before the fogginess surrounded her.
“I guess I’m out of practice, eh Jawn?”
When Uta finally woke, she
was back in the campsite, on a soft bed of leaves and ferns that looked like
they had been meticulously arranged to cushion her. Jawn was keeping vigil from
a nearby log, and hadn’t noticed her opening her eyes. She sat and watched him
for a few minutes.
“He feels guilty. Poor child...” she smiled a little, “He’s not used
to having friends… He lost control. Poor, poor Jawn.” She abandoned her
thoughts when his eyes turned to hers. “It’s not your fault,” she stated
plainly.
He looked away. “You wouldn’t understand.” He then got up and walked away, into
the shadows of the trees.
She lay back on her bed and sighed. “You have no idea how well I’d understand.”
She didn’t know if he heard her or not, and she didn’t care. She again closed
her eyes and fell asleep.
There was little
conversation in the next few days. They walked slowly, and stopped often, and
when Jawn searched for food, he never went far. The first night found them near
a natural spring, where Uta bathed her still tender wounds, but she neglected
her ritual hair arrangement. Her left arm still throbbed, she was just glad that
she’d set it so early.
On the second night after the attack, she had to ask for his help with her hair.
It was funny to watch, he was so earnest, yet rather clumsy, unlike his usual
self. It was a welcome change, but only temporary; after he was done, the
silence returned.
Four more days passed in the same insufferable manner, and they made little
headway. It was a long frustrating time for her, and she could sense the silence
driving her mad. All her life she had been taught the value of words and how she
mustn’t waste them lest they lose their worth, but she began to feel like she
was back in her quiet prison in the home of the fierce Xama.
Uta gave her now twice rescuer his space, despite her dislike of the situation,
for she could see he genuinely needed it. Yet, even this knowledge did not mute
her relief when a tall figure entered their camp on the fourth evening,
effectively ending the imposing moratorium on sound. He was tall, slender, and
had shaggy brilliantly red curls framing his freckled face. He had a long green
wool cape, with a golden crest embroidered on it; it was that of the Kamdaa, one
of the Werewolf Tribes. He strode over to the quiet half-elf, and knelt before
him smoothly.
“At last I have found you, O One Who I Owe My Life To,” he pronounced in an
assured voice, without looking up.
“Shien*, I do not know what you are talking about,” Jawn answered, taking on his
usual annoyed look.
The werewolf bowed deeper, and took a deep breathe, “You have killed the one
whom I was bound to destroy, and so my life belongs to you.”
At this, Jawn looked a little confused, and perhaps a bit curious, “What do you
mean? I have killed many; you’ll have to say more than that, if you would like
me to understand you.”
The red-head nodded, “Of course, O Strong One, I shall explain. You have rid the
world of the horrible minor wolven criminal, Sa’ame, who took the life of my
sister. For this heroic act, I am bound to serve you for the rest of my days.”
“This is ridiculous,” the half-elf growled, “Stand up.” The man before him
complied. “Now leave us, I relieve you of your debt to me.”
“O, my Lord I can not go-“
Uta broke in, without looking up from her hair, which she was, once again,
braiding, or rather, fixing Jawn’s earlier braiding job, “It would bring great
dishonor to he and his family if you turned him away, Jawn.” She put down her
comb and looked at the shien, “Is this not true?”
“Yes! The Lady is correct. Please, Gracious One, allow me to serve you and
fulfill my duty!” he folded his hands and lowered his head.
The blonde grumbled, and looked quite unhappy, “I suppose you can remain, for
now, as long as you call me Jawn, and none of those other stupid names.”
The werewolf got a great expression of relief on his face and bowed again to his
master, “Oh, thank you, Mag-um… Jawn,” he bobbed his head, “I am Cade Vieun,
your loyal servant. Is there anything you’d like for me to do for you?”
“Go… go get me some meat,” the wielder of the Bloodsword watched his new
“servant” leave, and then turned to Uta.
“I blame you for this.”
She couldn’t help but giggle, and feel glad that Jawn now could be annoyed with
her again. He settled back in again, and she murmured to herself, “About bloody
time…”
As happy as Uta was to have
Cade along, it was that aggravating to Jawn. The cheerful shien’s presence did
allow him to keep his eyes on Uta better, but he insisted on always helping. And
on more than one occasion his help was less than productive. There was another
aspect of this new edition to their traveling party that awoke strange feelings
in the usually stony Halfling. He wished with all his being that it wasn’t what
he suspected it was: jealousy.
Uta seemed to talk to the fiery redhead so well, so easily. She asked him about
the happenings of Lower Lilunmel during the span of her incarceration, laughed
at his jokes, smiled at him often. That smile had been so hard won for Jawn, yet
it was given so easily now. They sat across the fire from him, and he made a
show of his annoyance, when really it was the heaviness in his chest the
dominated his consciousness. The next few days seemed to stretch themselves into
months, at least to him. Then a curious incident happened.
As they took their midday meal at the edge of a majestic river, a rustle from
the wood at their backs broke their comfortable lunch. The others stopped their
conversation suddenly, and he stood up, stuffing his thick blonde tresses behind
his super-sensitive ear. He smoothly rose, and crept into the dense brush,
leaving his “servant” to protect his charge.
She stood there, among the trees, like a ghost. Her soft, shining diamond curls
danced the light breeze that wove itself through the trees, and her massive
white feathered wings were loosely wrapped about her slender shoulders. It was
such a strange thing to see, a lone female Angili in this part of the world.
Still, a single girl or no, this threat must be given the proper caution. Jawn
thought as he crept toward her from her blind spot. With all speed and silence
he could muster, he jumped at her, wrapping his arms around her to leave her
helpless, and placing his hand over her mouth to keep her from alerting any
companions she could have that were hidden.
“Perhaps you could join my allies and I for a conversation about what you’re
doing so near our camp, woman,” he lowered his voice to a half a tone away from
a growl. Her head bobbed in reply, and she made no struggle.
He pushed her through the green barrier between the forest and the water front,
and followed closely. She fell to her knees on the soft green grass, and blinked
in the intense noon sun. When she looked up, shock invaded her crystalline eyes.
“Cade!”
The shien looked just as surprised at the figure before him. “Etoma!” his voice
was close to a hiss, so unlikely his normal cheerfulness. His face became hard
and he crossed his arms.
“What are you doing in this company, Cade?” the interloper gracefully stood up
and brushed some dust and leaves from her long sweeping black duster. Her face
mirrored his sudden harshness, and she met his iron gaze with a sort of
determination that amused Jawn a bit.
“This man here took the life of my sister’s killer, the one I was bound to
destroy. My life is his now, I have vowed to serve him for the rest of my days.”
The shien narrowed his eyes as if he dared her to challenge him.
For her part, Etoma tensed and let out a long breathe. She lowered her head a
little, “Is that the way it is?” there was a softness to her voice this time,
very slight, but noticeable.
Cade blinked slowly and gritted his teeth. “Yes, I have forsaken my former
foolish life,” there was unmistakable venom in his words.
The Angili swept around, and knelt before Jawn lightly. “My Lord, I too had
vowed to take the life of Sa’ame, and I have come to offer up myself to you.”
“Oh no, not another one...” he stared down at her and growled. “I do NOT want
another ‘servant!’” He pushed his hand through his hair, but she didn’t move.
Jawn could not contain his exasperation, and leaned his head back. As he did so,
Uta caught his eye. Something in her look told him to think twice. He remembered
the Angili and the Shien’s odd reactions to each other and a spark of curiosity
lit in his mind.
Something else is going on here...
“Very well, Etoma, you may join our little band, on the condition that you call
me Jawn, and no other title,” he sighed.
“Very well, thank you for your time, Jawn,” the pearl haired woman rose, turned
and bowed to Uta, and then sat near the edge of the camp.
*Shien is a term for werewolves.