Dragon! Book Two: "Revenge"

CHAPTER ELEVEN

As Ann predicted, they found the small river crossing the path they followed. Gareth used his mind to ensure there were no other people in the immediate area, then he placed the boy on the grass in a small meadow and stepped back. He looked up at the sky between the treetops and found plenty of light left in the day. He looked at Ann.

Tad was still awake and had asked about the boy they carried several times. Gareth had not told him much, preferring to wait until there was time to explain all of it. He wouldn’t hold back. Each glance at the boy in his arms confused and enraged him to greater heights. The stench from him came not only from the dirt but from the abscesses and the scent of illness reeked.

“What’s first?” Gareth asked Ann.

She dug into her backpack and pulled out items, tossing them on the grass one at a time, as if she found small treasures. A sliver of soap, a pouch of dried medications, and a small knife. She turned to Tad. “I need some clothes.”

She hadn’t asked, she simply assumed he would share. Tad stood aside as she pulled a pair of pants, too small, from his pack and a shirt. The boy wore no shoes. She shrugged at Gareth. “Can you keep his mind silent while I begin?”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to the river while you make a fire. We’ll need it to dry us when we’re done.”

Again she didn’t ask. She ordered in the manner of all mothers in urgent times. She gathered her things and scooped the boy into her arms, her hands full of items. One glance at Gareth told him to get busy gathering firewood and start the fire. Now.

“Tad, gather some wood.” While he moved slowly, the boy managed to have an armful ready when Gareth managed to get the tinder lighted. Then another. Gareth allowed the fire to burn while he helped with the firewood. Gathering it before dark was much easier than after.

Yet, he resented the daylight they wasted. The King would strike a deal with the Brotherhood sooner or later. Being beyond their control would make travel much easier. When he had gathered enough wood, he sat and watched the fire, lost in the flickering flames. Tad sat beside him and dozed, his head resting on Gareth’s lap. Then he fell asleep, and Gareth covered him with his favorite blanket brought with him from Bitters Island.

The ship that would carry his family to safety should have arrived at the island today, tomorrow at the latest. He imagined the fear and excitement. The grandchildren would look forward to the voyage, their first. Those older would dread leaving the peaceful lives they had all enjoyed for almost thirty years.

He wished he could be with them. Especially, Sara. He was gone only a few days and already he missed her to a degree most couldn’t understand. Her easy manner and soft talks reduced complicated subjects to easily understood segments. He wished for her council now.

She didn’t fight against the world and the happenings, she accepted and made the best of each situation. He had tried to learn from her over the years, and he supposed he had learned a little, but not to the extent needed. His first reaction was to solve a problem; not live with it the best way he knew how.

He reached out with his mind and touched Blackie for assurance. All was as well as it could be. The squelch maintained over Tad was intact. The one over the boy was harder since he didn’t know the mind, but the medication controlled most of it. The thinking of so many different things at the same time taxed him. As long as he didn’t add another to the list, he should be fine.

But he reached out and listened to those minds closest to him. He heard Ann’s of course, worried and concerned about how to heal the boy she washed. He quickly moved on, trying to ignore minds on the coast and behind them. He rejected many he determined to either side, although he had no method of determining where the person was except for listening for clues. Farmers were concerned with their animals, their feed or safety. Tradesmen concerned themselves with their products, how to make more or improve their lots.

Soldiers minds were different and immediately recognizable. They were thinking of boredom, poor food, thick women, gambling, and fear. Always fear. Soldiers, oddly enough, do not enjoy fighting in battles where too many are killed or maimed. They would all fight if required, but most secretly wished to never face another army.

Gareth used his mind to seek out those of the soldiers. He determined some were at the gates of Freeport and dismissed them. He found others on the road they had traveled, setting up new camps and additional blockades. He found others that were positioned ahead, and those drew his attention, now. He guessed at their locations and made a mental map of how to circle around them.

Sara said, kneeling at his side with the boy in her arms, “I did what I could.”

The boy looked six, but Gareth believed him to be at least ten. He touched the boy’s mind and found him in a stupor, but somewhat alert and very scared. The cold water of the river had been a shock as if he hadn’t been in cold water before, which may have been true. From the condition of his skin and the filth crusted on it, if he had ever been in water it had been long ago.

But the fear in his mind was nothing new. It had existed years. It expected to be punished. It waited for it, knowing it was coming and that there was nothing to stop it.

Digging deeper, Gareth found a mind stunted and scared, wanting affection so intensely that it accepted pain as a substitute. If nothing else, the giver of the pain was also giving him attention—something the small mind craved.

But it was what he didn’t find that concerned Gareth. He located no remorse, no shame or regret. No empathy for others, people or animals. No, that was not correct. It was there but buried. Hidden. Withheld from the insane, evil mind.

Gareth mentally pulled back and said, “He looks much better.”

The hair that had hung in greasy coils had been cut to the length of a finger, all around the head. The skin of his face and neck glowed pink, the lesions each had a dab of medicine. Ann had scrubbed the green off his teeth. Tad’s clothing almost fit. To a stranger, he appeared a normal little boy of six or seven, the same age as Tad.

“I cannot see where he has been physically abused or beaten, just neglected,” Ann said.

“Cleaning him up didn’t change who he is.”

“Of course not. He’s a child who needs adults to teach him. I have no children of my own . . .”

“Don’t even think that, Ann. This is not a child to make your own. This is a dangerous creature that we should have destroyed at the beginning while we had the chance.”

“How can you say that?”

“I just examined his mind.” Gareth tossed more wood on the fire and tried to think of his next words before allowing them to pass his lips. “He has the power to kill with his mind-touch. Worse, he has already helped do it.”

Ann had an arm wrapped around his shoulders protectively. “Just a boy. I can teach him.”

Shaking his head, Gareth said, “If he wants a bowl of pudding to eat and you refuse he may take control of your mind and slay you for such a minor disagreement. Or he may punish you with pain more intense than a whipping from the King’s persecutor in the deepest dungeon. May is not the word I should have used. I should have said will because he will do it. That’s what he’s been taught to do if another does not give him what he wishes.”

“Everyone deserves a chance,” Ann cooed, snuggling the boy closer.

“You say that because you’re a good person. But your motherly feelings are dangerous. With your permission, can I enter his mind and relay to you what is there into your mind?”

She turned to him, a concerned expression taking over. “Will it hurt?”

“In a sense. His mind is numbed from the medication you gave him, but a touch of what is inside his head is necessary for you to understand what we are dealing with or it may become dangerous. The Sisterhood is comprised of women who are empathetic and trusting. That is both a blessing and a curse.”

“You’re rambling, Gareth.”

“I know. But you, not understanding what we are dealing with could cause my death, or the death of my grandson, as well as your own. You need to know what this boy is. You must know.”

“Very well, but I warn you that I see a helpless child and don’t believe you will change my opinion.”

Gareth touched the mind of the boy, found memories of a farmer he had encountered that offered a roof and meals in return for help with his harvest three days earlier. Later that same day the boy left the farmer lying dead on the road. The house and barn burned behind him, the animals locked behind the doors of the barn, crying out in terror and pain. The boy giggled as he walked and ate, the voice of the evil one pushing him on.

As Gareth uncovered each memory he transmitted it to Ann. Turning, Gareth looked at her sitting with the boy in her lap. Gareth had purposefully edited the memories to exclude most of the horror and gory details, but a single glance at her expression and he knew that even less would have been better.

She suddenly pushed the boy away, as if afraid to touch him. His limp body rolled across the ground with the violence of her shove. She stood up and backed two steps, her frightened eyes locked on the small form lying on the grass sleeping.

Her hands went to her face, and she sobbed as she slumped back to the ground. She averted her eyes and refused to turn to the boy. Gareth wondered if he had done the right thing, but also knew it had been necessary. Her potential attachment had to be prevented before there were feelings for him. She had to understand, but Gareth felt no better.

Ann moved her belongings to the other side of the fire, leaving Gareth, Tad, and the boy on the other side. She didn’t speak or look at any of them. Gareth spread their blankets over them and allowed her to have the separation she silently demanded. Each time he woke to check the camp during the night he found her sitting across the fire, eyes glazed.

She stood and packed her bag before sunrise. He heard her and joined, but she still said nothing until Gareth took Tad by his hand, ready to walk.

“I’m not touching that thing,” her hand briefly moved in the boy’s direction.

Gareth directed Tad to stand beside her while he went to the boy and helped him up. Twice the youth snarled, and his mind weakly attacked Gareth, but they were put easily aside. However, after the second attack, Gareth lashed out with a red swipe of energy that rocked the boy back on his heels.

Gareth watched for the reaction, which was fear and puzzlement. He had never faced anyone who could hurt him like that. The explanation of fear was obvious. The puzzlement was that the red swipe of pain had been as intense as it was quick, and from a stranger. In the past, the pain had not been as violent, and it had gone on and on instead of stopping so fast.

Gareth pointed for the boy to walk ahead, but behind Ann and Tad. He did as he was told, but turned to look behind often, as if trying to figure out what had gone wrong and why he felt the pain instead of the other way around.

No explanation was offered. It was better that he understood little of what was happening for now. However, when they stopped to eat Gareth would ask for more medicine to dull his mind. He didn’t want, or need, to keep a constant mental watch on him. At least not the sort required by a mind fully alert.

But it did bring up the question of what they were going to do with him. The boy, now that he was cleaned up, his hair washed, and his clothing clean, looked like almost all other boys. But his mind was different, and he was a threat, no matter how well he cleaned up.

There were two problems. First, the boy did not appear to present a threat. Indeed, he almost invited affection with his freshly scrubbed face. Second, their options were finite. At this point, he could either accompany them and continue to present danger, or they could kill him and continue—which was not an option for either of them. Tad remained quiet and watchful.

It was not that Gareth couldn’t control him with his mind, and keep any stray thoughts from escaping, but the dual tasks of performing the same for the boy and for Tad were tiring. The secondary reason was worse. If Gareth stumbled and struck his head, he could no longer control the two minds while he lay unconscious. What would the stranger do? He feared he knew all too well, just not the details.

“Ann, we need to talk.”

“Which means that you need to talk, and you want me to listen.”

Gareth ignored her sharp tone and when she said no more but continued walking, he stopped. He stood and waited. They were in a dense forest of hardwoods, ash and oak, with a walnut tree directly ahead. The sun was hidden both by the canopy and high wispy clouds. The forest sounds were early morning, more insect than animal. The rustle of leaves brushing each other made a soft hiss as they passed. No sharp or unusual sounds or smells.

Reaching out, he found Blackie dozing in a patch of sunlight that warmed him. No people were close, and those ahead were still sleepy and just waking for the day. He hoped to reach the base of the mountain with the pass this afternoon. A single inquiry assured him that the members of the Brotherhood were still restrained and living on three separate farms.

The snapping of twigs and small branches under angry feet brought him back to the path in the forest. Ann and Tad had returned. Tad wore a tiny smile he tried to hide.

“Talk about what?” Ann demanded.

Gareth glanced at the boy attached to the hand he held. “We need to keep this one under the power of your herbs. Do you have enough or can you gather more as we hike?”

“I now have enough for two days, but I will keep a watch and expect to locate more soon.”

“Good. One more thing. You need a bow. Use mine for now.”

“There are better ways for one of the Sisterhood to hunt.”

“But your ways will not help to defend yourself, should I trip and strike my head, or be attacked and die,” he glanced at the boy again, making sure she saw the action. “If anything happens to me that might cause my mind to lose control, illness, accident, or whatever, you have one task.”

She nodded in understanding.

“Can, and will you do it? Are you able?”

She hesitated. Gareth waited her out, giving her the time to sort through the options—or lack of them. Finally, she fully understood the implications and her duty. She reached for his bow.

The medication helping keep Tad’s mind at bay was gentle and only took the edge off. He understood the conversation. His reaction agitated him as he understood the boy might hurt Gareth and Ann. He scowled at the boy. Gareth felt Tad reaching out to the boy, but not in the manner of friendship. The smile was a threat. Tad struck a mental barb that made the other boy wince. Gareth deflected most of the barb and shook his head at Tad.

Gareth examined the youth in the light of day and found that he still showed signs of neglect that a bath couldn’t clean away. A dab of white medicine covered each flea bite, tick bite, infected mosquito bite, scrape, puncture, and cut. Scars of older injuries or infections littered his skin like fallen leaves in winter.

One tooth in front was broken off in a jagged ridge at the base of his gum. The others were more green and brown than white, even after Ann’s cleaning. His breath was sour enough to curdle whole milk.

While he was older than Tad, he was near the same size because of the lack of food. Although he stood a little taller, he weighed less. His arms and legs were the sizes of Tad’s wrists. The trousers of Tad’s that he wore fit around the middle, but the length ended well above the ankles. The shirt was the same, ending half way to the wrist.

For all that, he was still a little boy, and the question of what to do with him remained. Gareth almost wished he had fought when they encountered him. An arrow back then would have settled so many problems.

Ann placed the arrows where they protruded high above her backpack for easy reach and carried the bow. She said, “You cannot save this one.”

“I cannot fail to try.”

“You’re a fool.”

“That, I am.”