#64 - Big Sister

“We’ll have the boots on the horses in less than breakfast time,” the Captain said to Ahrimaz who walked jittery fingers over the map, away from Champ de Navet to the muddy track that led all along the edge of the Great Mire to Riga.  His fingers kept stopping and tapping at two fords.  In this world they were named by the locals, Up Ford and Down Ford, though there was no evidence of any kind of village at either place.  It was a choke spot for the Cylak herds both north and south and every year, joking, they swore that their aurochs trampled it wider.

“Boots.  On horses and deer.”

“Ankle wraps on the deer so the ice doesn’t cut them up when they break through the crust on the road verge.  Ice crampons laced to the horse’s shoes.”

Ahrimaz just shook his head.  “Let’s go then.”

The Captain nodded and then left him sitting, the map spread on a box in a barn that was three quarters full of turnips, his coat puddled around him.  Fingers walking up and back between the two fords.  Up and back.  “We’ll get there,” he muttered to himself.  Limyé sat nearby, rolling bandages with Etienne.  He looked up at Ahrimaz, then back down at his hands.  Clearly listening.

“It’s too scorching drowning close!”  Ahrimaz snapped, then froze as Pel carried in an arms box and set it on the rammed earth floor next to him.  An arms box branded with the Hand of the People symbol in it; so close to the burn on his own chest, but with no sign of the Flamen anywhere, only the raised Hand in the square ivy wreath.  “No, no, dear Gods and Scorching demons, Pel!  You can’t trust me with my own weapons!”  He swallowed, raised his hands.  “You saw how I was with that charming antique Teel lent me!  No!”

“You are going to need more than just armour and a piss-load of soldiers to save your friends.  I don’t want you to go anywhere near a fight unarmed.  You’d do something stupid like rushing in bare hands!”

“No. No. That’s why I brought all you lot along.  I’m not a proper warrior any longer.  I don’t revel in bathing in the blood of my enemies!”

“This is a good sign,” Limyé said, from where he sat.  “At one point you needed blood or pain or both to feel real.  Now you are rejecting them.”

Ahrimaz nodded abruptly.  “Pel…”  he slapped a hand on the empty scabbard at his belt.  “I’m certain I won’t do anything stupid.”

Pelahir stared at him for a long, long moment before he nodded abruptly, pulled out his pocket watch and checked it before tucking it back into his vest pocket.  “You do that.  I’m going to be at your back, you realize.  And you won’t want a diplomatic incident like involving me in a fight that will get my Doe angry now, would you?”

Ahrimaz snorted.  “Don’t you try and make me laugh, you dirty Cylak bastard.  In this world your Doe could probably stomp me into red slush!”

“Yes, she and her doe could probably resurrect you and do it a second time, too.”

“Spare me.”

The squire whistled from the door and half a dozen men pushed it open against the crust of ice trying to lock it shut.  Teel snapped his book shut where he sat, tucked it away in his own great coat and helped the healers close up their portable hospital, snapping the locks down with hard ‘cracks’.  “You’ve overdone the bandages, M’sieur Limyé,” he said and Physician Etienne, the younger of the two, smothered a laugh.

“You’ve not been in a battle before, Raconteur?”

“No, how did you know?”

“There’s never such a thing as too many bandages.”

**

The bandits slid down the hill on the slick leather of their coats, digging their heels in, carefully climbing to their feet.  The wind blew into their faces oddly enough.  Not typical for the land by the Mire.  It was growing colder and the mud had frozen hard enough that their boots couldn’t cut heel holes in them with stomping.

“We kin slide fer a ways, boss, but nohow we’re going to get to Downford in less n’ two days.”

“An’ we kin settle in at Upford and jus wait fer ‘em to come tah us then.”

“Ay.”

“Upford it is then.  Set to, boys and gals!”

**

Jagunjagun stomped his new mukluks, felt the chain maille on the soles cut through the ice and give him grip.  “I approve!” he rumbled and Didara, looking almost dainty, minced out onto the road after him.

The Cylak were all on their deer and laughing as they took in the hugely modified deer boots that they’d made into elephant boots.  Didara threw her head up, in the rain, and trumpeted.  “I’m funny!!!!!  Look at me dance!!!”

Their escort threw their hands over their ears and their deer shied as Jagunjagun joined her and they raised one forefoot before smashing it down through the ice.

One of the Cylak calmed his deer and actually rumbled disapproval at them.  “Danger, here, not dance, not sing.”

The two elephants calmed and swung to look at him.  “Apologize to you, we do.” They cast an amused look at each other and up at Ologbon on Jagunjagun’s neck as their escort began a careful march.  “I want to get to this Innéthel and rest for a while!”

“Then let us go, my big sister,” he said and they swung out on the ice, carefully behind the track left by the deer.