the Leathermines

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The group was outside in the dim daylight, sitting on Lady Hellon’s Hill with a small fire going in one of the firepits from summer.  It was a small group, only about ten of the one hundred and five in the household.  It was sometimes a heated discussion, sometimes tears were shared.  Laun was mentally and physically tired, but she persevered to last through, to not walk away.

Geralk had been cleaned up and forcefully put into the tub that morning.  Orgia oversaw that he was cleaned and comforted and clothed before he was allowed to leave on his own.

Kelli had been a surprise to Edgar, waking with the young woman in his arms instead of Laun.  He had been dreaming of pleasant activities and tried to calm certain portions of himself when he realized the skin and breast he was stroking was not his Lady Love’s.  Kelli was awake and put his hand back on her breast when he had pulled away.  Laun woke and watched the tears flow, but the physical feelings created by the man behind her pushing them out and out of the way.

First meal was somber.  Many people were still up from the night before, coming in to eat and participate in the morning meeting before heading off to sleep.  Laun did not really say anything to anyone before she stood and turned, the usual signal for quiet and attention.  She looked at the faces, counted, knew some people were on patrol outside, some stuck in the kitchens.  One hundred five.

It was hard for her to find somewhere to start.  There were things she wanted to say, things that had been said the day before, and things she wanted to know.  She had a voice in the back of her mind that was nagging her, telling her that no matter what she did, they were all dead.  It would be her fault and she would see all her people, her family, die around her.

Laun closed her eyes and tried to chase the voice away.  She couldn’t.  She found she was talking without meaning to and heard herself say, “I’m scared.”  Her eyes opened and she looked at the closest person.  She spoke louder.  “I am scared.  We have our master of lists back and the beautiful Kelli back.  But...  Ben - the young ward was taken from us while on their mission.”

Laun turned and let the tears come out, the ragged tone in her voice showing how close she was to loosing control.  “The fight is coming to us.  There are signs that we do not have time.  Tell me what we were able to accomplish yesterday.”

Several fists were in the air, Laun nodded to Dreng, who stood and put his arm around Laun before speaking, his voice slightly deeper than normal and carried well.  “The information we have been able to gather, about the outside and about ourselves, has shown that, yes, we are vulnerable.  But it was found before the enemy came to us in force.  The immediate actions that our Lady forced onto us when danger was found had shown me that we are a force that they will have to deal with, not sheep rounded up for the butcher.”  He kissed her on the forehead and moved away, still talking, saying, “Some of us are experienced, some of us are not.  Yet, we have all learned from each other.”

The King took Launs hand and raised it in his.  “Our Lady may have not been born and brought up for the station she now holds, but her insight, her love for us all has kept us together and safe so far.”  He turned and slightly bowed to her.  “Thank you, Lady Laun Dresden, Lady of the Salam-Dir household.”

A cheer went up as Laun’s name was repeated and the morning tea was used to toast and celebrate.

Laun took it, but she was bright red as she stood there.  The cheer did not look like it was going to calm any time soon.  Laun held up her other hand and some of the enthusiasm refocused.  There was a quieting and Laun bowed her head to those around her.

“I thank you for the support, for the accolades.  Grandfather, I love you.  I love all of you.”  Smiles were around her.  “But!  That is not what I asked...”  Dreng kissed Laun on the forehead again and sat.  “Shall we have news on the work on the garden clearing?”

Laun sat as people came forward and gave progress reports, some just being a report of no progress and asking for help.  There were too many people asking for help and not enough people to do things.  The meeting started to break up and Laun stood again.

“I am going to ask for a few people to meet me at Lady Hellon’s Hill in a few minutes.  There are some things we need to discuss.”

That was hours before the group finally was able to come to a consensus.  The work that was being done on the keep and castle was the priority.  That had to be done first.  With the information Geralk and Kelli were able to bring back from the Capitol City, they knew that there was a push to get all the land in the Midlands under Falmir’s control.  And, even though the greyworlders against Falmir had tried to keep some of the nobles protected, including the Salam-Dir household, it was now known that there was a strong force that Falmir had to deal with.

Geralk apologized that he had lost most of the trade goods, cart, and his mule.  Some of it was at the Inn, being held by Marie and Markle, but when they had to escape, everything that was not on them at the time was left behind.  No blame was given, the apology accepted but only because Geralk would not move on without it being accepted.

Ben’s capture was glossed over, the force that surprised them at a supposed safe house overpowering them at first.  Geralk beamed as much as he could through his fatigue when he told briefly of the way Kelli had been able to surprise the attackers and free Geralk.  She had waited until they had approached her, about to force themselves on her when she took the advantage.  She left several of the attackers dead around her and several without the facilities to have more prodigy.  Both of them had tears when they stopped talking after he said, “A knife was at Ben’s throat and I saw blood before we...”

Edgar and Fount both refused to let Laun go through with her plan to get information at Helmic’s land.  They were backed up by most of those in the small meeting.  They were all being protective, she knew it.  She proposed a change to sending one team of the fastest runners and have them hide and spy.  As dangerous, but if they found anything, they should be able to get back and tell the household before the usurper could send anyone after them.

Laun had a twinkle in her eye when the proposal was accepted and she said, “Since everyone here knows I cannot run, you do not have to worry about me going.”

It did not lighten the group as she was hoping it would.  They were all grim and the impending storm did not help.  The fire was not there just to cheer and warm water for tea.  The cold wind that had snuck in was telling of the Autumn coming and the Winter close behind.

It seemed that the last two days were full of talking.  Laun felt like she needed to do something other than talk and be talked at.  After the meeting on the hill wound down, she headed out towards the road and out to the edge of the Salam-Dir land.  Her legs were better, but her back was making her walk slowly.  She felt the places that had been strained from her first encounter with the horse, but also tension from the last two days.

She walked for about an hour, the sun making a round spot through the clouds above her, showing that it was far past the usual mid-day meal by the time she was where she was headed.

There were a few apple trees that had old apples around their roots.  Laun gathered a few and cut off the brown spots.  She ducked into the farmer’s hut and sat on the small stool still in it.  No windows, just the doorway, to let in light.  This one was pointed towards the road, facing anyone who would come into the land.  She sat, ate the old apples and listened.  There were animal noises and she saw some rabbits at the edge of the road, sniffing and eating before disappearing into the underbrush again.  Crows cawed and flew overhead.  She thought she saw the silhouette of a deer for a moment in the shadow of the trees.

And then horses.  She heard horses on the road.  A slow pace, and a squeak of a wagon.  She saw a group coming, far enough away that she could not tell.  Ally?  Enemy?  The slump to the shoulder could be weariness, or a ploy.

Laun spat out the apple bits and tried to make the bird call.  It would not come out.  The second time, she was able to voice it.  She waited, but did not hear the response call.  She called again, still not hearing the response.

She was alone.  She pushed back further into the hut, into the darkness, sitting on the floor and pulling a scrap of fabric at hand over her light colored tunic.  She made the bird call one more time before the people outside were too close.  There still was not an answer.

The group was led by someone on a horse.  He was wrapped in a cloak against the wind and did not even look at the black-marked hut Laun was hiding in.  The wagon was being pulled by an old, tired horse, helped by several men either pushing the spokes of the large wheels or hanging onto the sides of the wagon, lending strength when the horse faltered.

Laun could not see into the wagon from her hiding place, but she saw a hand come over the side and grip it.  All the men she saw were tired, road-weary.  Some had damaged armor, most just dirty clothing.  Almost all of them had boots that were about to fall off in the next few steps, if it wasn’t for the rags that were holding them together.

With their slow pace, it took several minutes for them to pass by.  Laun waited for a count of twenty breaths and then got up and carefully looked around the hut at the group.  They were still moving, not looking back.

Laun looked around her and saw several ways to disappear into the fields and woods.  She made the bird call one more time and started to move towards the field, keeping the hut between her and the group on the road.  She heard an answer that time and made another bird call to tell numbers to the protector.  A simple repeat answered her and she did her best to disappear into the field.

Her back decided that was when it wanted to seize up.  She was crouching behind a stand of bushes threatening to turn their leaves red when the pain overcame her and she was on the ground.  It took her breath away and it took a moment before she could use her bird call to call out for help.  She tried to use the signal for not urgent, but the answer call came back urgent.  It was from not too far away, so Laun made the standard attention call several times, sounding the protectors to her.

They found her on her back beside the bush.  They kept the underbrush between them and the group of men who still could be seen on the road.  A few hand signals between Laun and the dancer of the pair let them know that it was her back and not the men that was the problem.  They waited until the wagon could not be heard before Laun was helped up and carried towards the closest protector’s watch point.

From there several runners came in and were sent.  Information that was coming in was that there were twenty people in the approaching group.  One of the tree-climbers was able to count people in the wagon, and all seemed to be injured, or perhaps bodies.  There were no discernible emblems or devices on any of them.  One of the people mentioned that it looked like they were trying to push through on a hard march as far as they could before the rain would hit.

Laun was helped to the next watcher post, the one near the fallen tree barricade.  The trees that had been uprooted gave a good defensible, and almost invisible, place to stand as people approached.  The group had turned towards the keep and were making their way slowly up the road.

Laun watched the progress of the men until they saw the log blocking the road.  They stopped and the tired horses just stood, not even trying to flick flies away.  The protectors had been very careful about making it look like no one had been on the road for weeks, covering up or scraping out any tracks left.  With the log that seemed to have been there for a long time and the growth that had been encouraged, Laun could see a look of despair in the eyes of the man on the horse, even under the wrapping of the cape.

Those eyes.  Dark hazel, even in the grey light.  Her Grandfather’s eyes.  Her eyes.  Even at five paces, she could see them.  It could not be Falmir - this type of deception was not like him.  He was more likely to send someone in his place than go himself.

Laun signaled to the others in the hide to stay.  Laun forced herself to go to the edge of the log, leaning on it for support.

He may have been tired, but he was instantly aware of the woman who was leaning on the storm-fall log in front of them.

They looked at each other.  The men with him still standing reached for weapons, not too subtly.  Hands that were on the edge of the still wagon withdrew, at least one pair of eyes tilting up to see what their leader saw.  This woman in a short, grass-stained tunic, dirt on her hands and face and loose hair around her shoulders looked at each one in turn.

Laun braced herself against the log with her knees and raised her hands, open palm to the men.  “I am unarmed.  Who are you?”

Laun could see a movement under the man’s cloak.  The voice that was almost familiar said, “Refugees.  We are looking for a group that came here before us.”  Laun could hear the sound of a blade being slowly taken from its sheath.  She was not sure if it was from the people hidden beside her or from the man on the horse in front of her.

“As myself, I am looking for people who are coming.  Grandfather told me of people he regretted being split from.”  Laun had to lean forward again as her back spasmed.

The look in the man’s eye changed.  “Grandfather?”

Laun nodded.  “You’re very own, cousin.”

He reached up through the cloak and pulled it away from his face.  “Lady?”

“Dougal.”

There was relief and then surprise on his face and in his body as the people who had surrounded his group of men came out of hiding.  The log was pushed out of the way and the men were helped through.  The wagon left ruts that were covered up with leaves from the surrounding woods.  Several teams of protectors jogged down the road to obscure the track as the tired and injured men were escorted towards the keep.

Calls ahead had the Great Hall alive with the healers and assistants.  Orgia had a large pot of water on, both for cleaning and tea.  Disa was directing the laundresses to put sheets and bedding on the tables, rags in piles to be used to clean and bind wounds.  Edgar met Dougal with a warriors grip at the stable, Fount taking charge of the tired horses.

The men were so tired and relieved that they went wherever the hands put on them directed.  The ones that were looked at and were seen to have no real damage were the first to get dragged to the copper tubs and stripped.  There were very few complaints and none of them objected as they were cleaned, scrubbed, bound, clothed and set in front of fires with food and hot drink pushed on them.

The ones who were the most injured had the most effort and attention.  Pillar and Lucaris had been teaching as much as they could to the apprentices they had collected.  It showed that there had been learning as one of the apprentices distracted one man as he pulled the arm that had been dislocated for several days and popped it back in without help or guidance from his master.  Pillar was amused and nodded to his apprentice as he silently glided from patient to patient, his wife bouncing to her own charges.

Laun had become one of those charges.  Lucaris had a stern look on her face and a finger pointed at Laun’s nose as she said, “A week!  I will strap you down and force you to do nothing but heal for a week!”

Laun tried not to smile, but it burst out with her laugh.  “Yes, Mistress Shaman.”

Lucaris stopped in mid poke and smiled.  “Here, drink this and sit by the fire.  You will be feeling very little pain in a little while.”  Laun drank the fluid that tasted like horse manure and gasped.  “It’s what you deserve for not listening to me.”

Laun went to the fire and sat on the bench between two of the men who were waiting to get washed.  The first few had been already through and were quietly expounding on the pleasures of being clean.  Laun felt the effects of the drink but did not realize that it was effecting her as much as it was until she turned at the call of her name and almost slid off the bench.  Her back may have hurt, but she could not feel it right then.  She was caught by people around her and laughed.

Lucaris called across the room, “Unless you need her to be incoherent at you, leave her be.”

Laun sat again on the bench, sipping on hot tea and listening to the pop of the fire and the low talk of the men around her.  She would not remember most of what happened while the people were being processed around her.  But one thing caught and did not get dulled by the strong medicine that the healer had given her.

The girl and the boy who had been sent to them for safe keeping were zooming around the room, ducking under tables and chasing each other.  They had enough energy to keep everyone jumping when they heard the little feet come by.  And then the little girl stopped and was run over by the boy who had been close behind.  They fell into a giggly pile, but she got up and looked at the man she had spotted.

“Da!”  Her arms went out and she ran full force into the legs of the seated man.  She climbed him and had her little arms around his neck, her blonde hair covering most of his face as he held her.  He cried and rocked back and forth and held her for longer than she wanted.

Laun felt the tears well up and cried at the sight.

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Onto Chapter 42 .