Tales of a Horse Thief, Part 7c
The journey to return to the bandit camp had been excruciating and much longer than the ride out. At first he had been unsure of the direction, started off heading one way, then turned around and went the another direction. Loden also struggled with the fact he had let Wol escape. His defeat at her hands weighed heavily on him. He viewed her no differently than he did a Tannican soldier. He had missed the chance to remove a blight from the world. He had lost a one-on-one fight with the enemy.
His ass cheek bleed, his other hip was stiffening up, the knife wound to the arm throbbed and he was pretty sure he had landed hard enough on his shoulder to be badly bruised, though he could not feel the pain. He was actually surprised he had not broken the shoulder or his neck in that fall. It had been a risky move.
Wol and her bandits were all scum, they used murder and intimidation to accomplish their goals. In his brief contact with the bandits he had talked to a few and overheard many others. He knew, by their accent, that a fair number of them were from points west of the East Sister River. Likely refugees fleeing the Tannican armies, much like himself. The difference being, they were willing to victimize the people that were native to the area they had moved into. Violence in exchange for a few more days of survival.
Loden felt himself crashing, the adrenaline gone, a bad taste left in his mouth and too dry to spit. He clutched at Tingy’s mane, stumbled and limped, and told him over and over again what a good horse he was. He was lucky Tingy had been there to protect him and that the bandits had been intent on fleeing. At least he was alive to struggle with his regrets.
Hopefully he would never see that bitch again. If the time came where once again they met each other face to face he would take her down. No mercy.
Loden’s mind wandered from the present predicament to the recent past. Crossing the East Sister had seemed like a gift from the gods, a barrier between himself and the Tannican armies that could not be quickly bypassed. His first encounters with the caravan had been a welcome change from the fear and distrust that he had encountered for most of the two years previous. Too bad he had botched things with Gainsly’s daughter. That encounter and then the goat witch and her strange companions by the falls had left him somewhat disinterested in women… though he did like the look of Asta and she seemed really nice. Though he suspected most of the priestesses who served the Goddess of Mercy had to be decent sorts… could you court a priestess?
Loden was surprised at the sudden appearance of people, lantern light, weapons held against him and excited shouting. By the looks on the faces of the first couple of the caravan folk he came to he must be an awful mess. One of them took Tingy in hand and the other helped him to the camp.
He babbled at them a bit. Trying to tell them about Wol.
There was a large fire burning in the pit. There were a number of people gathered there. Folks were talking to him but he was having a hard time understanding them. He was thirsty and the noise and light was confusing him. Where had he left his horse? Did he find his sword. Flint appeared, there was a quick and confused conversation. At on point Loden nearly blacked out, he was set down by the fire, he wondered if Tingy was alright. He choked down some water. Someone was asking him where he was wounded. He gulped a bit more water and the world snapped into focus.
The man tending him looked concerned, “Can you understand me?”
Loden took in a shuddering breath and gave a nod. “My ass, left cheek, stabbed pretty bad.” The fellow was already tending the arm wound. “The rest of it is bruises, I think.”
“Did you hit your head?”
“I don’t think so.”
Loden sat up as best he could, leaning to his right, he spat into the fire and let the man finish binding his arm. He saw Dowmer sitting nearby, chest wrapped with a bandage, a small spot of blood had soaked through the wrapping. Beside her Ander lay on his side, blood frothed at the corner of his mouth. Ander clutched desperately to Dowmer’s hand.
“Now stay still, I’ll have to cut away your pants.”
Loden dragged himself to Dowmer, to the consternation of the man tending him, then lay next to Ander, he looked very pale. “Awe, buddy, not the lung?”
“Yup.” Ander gasped as his eyes focused on Loden.
“He’s lost too much blood.” Dowmer said.
Loden nodded, looked away to the fire.
The man trying to treat his wound moved in beside him, “Please stay still sir, your wound is still bleeding. It’s a bit of a mess.”
There was some pain as the man carefully removed the seam of his pants and then pulled and washed whatever bits and dirt hand manage to get into the wound. Loden ignored the pain and looked back to Ander.
Ander clutched his hat, with effort he reached out as if to passed it to Loden, “For. You. Thanks.” His voice was weak, he spit little droplets of blood and tried to smile.
Loden shook his head in denial, Ander struggled to pass the hat to him again. Finally Loden took the hat and laughed, “This is yours.”
Ander sighed, spitting more blood and shook his head a bit. He took a deep shuttering breath, Loden heard a wet rattling sound, and then Ander closed his eyes and died.
Dowmer cried silently, tears bright in the firelight.
Loden looked to the fire again and clutched at the hat.
After his wounds were tended he was left laying on his belly. The man told him he would need the healer as he had been unable to do more than slow bleeding.
A couple of people came and removed Ander’s body.
Dowmer stayed with him. Most of the people gathered around the fire were bandits, seven wounded. Two others had been captured without a fight. Dowmer told him that at least a dozen bandits had been killed and a couple small groups had managed to escape. Most of the horses had been retrieved. One of the caravan folk had ridden off to get the healer. Flint had gone to try and track down Wol, apparently Loden had told him about Wol, but Loden could not remember doing so. Exhausted, he dozed off.
When next he awoke Asta was checking out his but.
“Ah, you are awake, that’s a good sign.” She kept her hands gently resting on his cheek. A soothing warmth seemed to flow into the wound and most of the pain receded. Loden felt thick headed and very tired, his mouth was dry. He tried to say something glib, but only managed a croaking moan.
“Shh. You may be in favour with my goddess, but there is still a demand on the body.”
Loden nodded, managed a rough, “Thanks.”
“Thank the goddess.” She stopped whatever it was she had been doing to his posterior and gave him a careful look over. After a while she seemed satisfied with his condition and propped him up so he could drink some water.
Loden glanced around, most of the bandits had been moved off, only the ones with serious wounds remained by the fire. The light of day was creeping in around them, subdued grey light showed the mess around the camp. Someone was leading a number of the horses away. Nearby he noted his sword harness and saw his second blade had been returned. He did not think the day should be here so soon. After years of war and death he did not think he should feel so sad.
“Here. You should lay back down, likely best to lay on your stomach. You are going to need a lot of rest for the next few days. The healing seems to have gone well and if you look after yourself you should be back in shape within an eight-day. Rest, eat, make sure you get plenty of water. In a couple of days we’ll get you walking around.”
His throat remained constricted, he swallowed and asked, “Are we staying here?”
“No, we’re camping a bit further up for at least a day, maybe two.” She gave him some more water.
“Ander died.”
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry your friend is gone.”
Loden nodded, not sure Ander had been his friend, but maybe. It had been a long time since he had a friend. After considering this for a while he said to Asta, “I think I’ll just lay back down and sleep. Thank you, your goddess and whatever else I should be saying.”
Asta smiled, a beautiful sad smile, then she helped him settle. She made sure he knew where the water skin was and then moved off to check the other seriously wounded. She briefly talked to someone nearby and Loden faded into fitful sleep.
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