The Cabbage Girl
Chapter Eight
They trudged down the path that
Emlin had long traveled when sneaking out of the city over the years. Like with
the sewers, the trip seemed to take much longer than usual with a small band of
people following her.
Part of this feeling was due to an increased sense of paranoia on her part – more people, especially this lot that was unaccustomed to the area, made more noise that could draw more attention from distant eyes. The other part was an actual lengthening of the trip; Albrecht was having a hard time keeping up and Ishild was sulking over her wounded pride and kept lagging behind.
After an hour, as they neared the river, Sir Gomly whispered loudly for a halt. His elder squire sat down with obvious relief while the younger boys sat down and took off their packs. Ishild slowly moved over to the magus and started whispering to him.
Probably complaining about me, Emlin thought.
Emlin decided to stay over by Albrecht rather than suffer the sullen glares of the girl or potential reprimands by Magus Altefalke.
Gomly took this time to take a look at Albrecht’s wound, lifting the boy’s shirt and touching the hideous purple and yellow bruise that was revealed. The squire winced at his master’s touch and nodded with gritted teeth rather than speaking when the knight asked him questions about whether pressure at different points hurt.
Eventually, Gomly nodded in return.
“It does not seem like the ribs are broken, which is good. But I expect they could not feel much worse for you even if they were. You have done well, boy, though you would have done better if you had kept your wits about you a bit more.” The knight patted Albrecht’s head affectionately, taking some of the sting from the criticism. “Still, I am very proud of you. And I bet you have learned your lesson well enough. I’ll see if the magus has something for the pain.”
Gomly got up and walked over to Altefalke and began talking quietly with him. Albrecht smiled as he closed his eyes and tried to relax.
“How did you get to be so good with a sword?” Emlin asked after several minutes of silence.
“I don’t know about good,” Albrecht said, his face grimacing as he shifted position, keeping his eyes closed. “Sir Gomly has taught me what I know about holding a sword. But I still have a lot to learn. I’m definitely not as good as my master. If I was, I wouldn’t have gotten a mace to the ribs, now would I?”
Emlin shrugged, even though the squire couldn’t see her.
“I’m just lucky it was a clubbing I got. If that guard had had a sword, I’d have been dead.”
After another moment or two of quiet, Albrecht opened one eye and turned his head slightly towards her. “To be honest, though, you could probably be almost as good with a sword as I am with a few months’ practice.”
“Maybe.” Emlin smiled at the idea of being as good with a sword as she imagined Albrecht to be. Albrecht smiled back and then closed his one eye again.
A few minutes later, the knight returned with a small flask.
“The magus says to drink a small swallow of this.” Gomly helped Albrecht sip from the flask, before taking it back to return to the magus’ satchel. “It will not stop the pain, but it may ease it a little.”
Emlin decided that she had a bit more respect for the sorcerer, too, even if she still didn’t really like him. It had been an amazing, if slightly terrifying, bit of magic he had performed to set the waters of the sewer aflame.
When Sir Gomly called for everyone to get moving again, she helped Albrecht up and held onto his arm until he got his balance. Then she returned to her place at the head of the troop.
When they reached the river’s edge, the Cabbage Girl made them wait for over a quarter of an hour, looking for telltale bubbles or suddenly rising forms in the water. The dark made it nearly impossible, though.
“What are we waiting for?” demanded Balduin, the squire that was closest to her own age, from further back in the line.
“Sea crocodiles,” she said, turning back to face him. “Easily as big as a man. They like to swim up the river here from the bay.”
The boy gulped at the idea.
Eventually, though, she was forced to relay her concerns to Sir Gomly.
“It’s too dark to tell if there are any in the water.”
“Is there nowhere else to cross?”
“Not that I know of. But I only know the path me and my brother used to take.” She shrugged. “I don’t know much else about anything outside the city.”
“Then this is where we must cross.” Gomly stood up and called back to the rest of the group: “Come along everyone. Be careful and stay together!”
The water was extra cold in the chill night air. It soaked through her new breeches and boots, numbing the skin up to her waist.
Perhaps I won’t feel it when one of them grabs me, she thought morbidly. She shivered and then took a deep breath as she pressed forward through the river’s current.
Gomly had drawn his sword and followed close behind with the remainder of the party following behind him.
Emlin felt the way through the dark waters with her booted feet, hoping beyond hope that she would not come face-to-face with any of the monsters she had seen swimming in this river from time to time. She tried to stay focused and keep moving, telling herself that she had only seen two of the beasts in as many years.
She had just reached the opposite shore when someone started screaming.
Emlin scurried up the small embankment, desperate to get out of the water – all philosophical morbidity gone from her thoughts. Once she was out of the water, she turned to see the knight and Albrecht rushing back through the river, taking large, exaggerated leaps with each step. Someone was thrashing wildly in the middle of the current while the rest of the party were taking awkward, splashing steps towards Emlin, trying to get themselves out of danger.
Taking a quick glance over every else nearing the shore, she suddenly realized who was missing: Balduin.
It was a confusing scene for several moments. Albrecht was trying to grab the screaming, thrashing boy in spite of the immense pain in his own ribs and haul him from the river, while the boy seemed to be fighting the elder squire as much as, if not more than, he was helping. Sir Gomly was hacking down with his sword into the dark waters, striking wildly at something Emlin could not see. She could see a loaf of bread, half a round of cheese, a small pot, and several bits of clothing floating down the river, spilled from Balduin’s pack as he wrenched this way and that in the water.
Finally, Albrecht managed to get an arm under Balduin’s armpit and around the younger boy’s opposite shoulder and began pulling him towards the shoreline and out of the river.
When the two of them reached the shore, Emlin could see that the leg of the boy’s pants were torn just under the knee but could see no more before the magus pushed her out of the way.
Albrecht dumped Balduin against a tree. Then, as the magus was inspecting the younger boy’s wound, Albrecht took a few steps and collapsed next to his fellow squire.
“This doesn’t look terribly bad,” said the magus. “Hardly a small cut, really.”
It was then that they turned at the sound of a loud thump.
Sir Gomly stood over a piece of heavy stump, with jagged, broken roots pointing in various directions, still wet with the river water from which it had been pulled.
“There is your attacker, my young fool of a squire.”
Everyone stared for several moments, before Korbinian, the youngest, began to giggle.
“Shut up,” Balduin commanded. But now everyone except Balduin and Sir Gomly was smiling. Emlin had to cover her mouth when a chuckle escaped her lips.
“You shut up, too,” the middle squire barked at her, his face turning a deep shade of red from the terrified white it had just been. “I bet there was never any stupid crocodiles in that river and you just made ‘em up!”
“Enough.” Sir Gomly’s voice was very serious. “Your foolish screaming may have led our enemies or who knows what else right to us, idiot boy. Not to mention half the supplies in your pack are now a mile down the river and the other half are water-logged. Now get up before I give you a clout that you will never forget.” He reached down and dragged the boy up by his soaked shirt. The knight turned his furious eyes back to Albrecht, softening his speech. “Are you all right?”
Albrecht nodded, but was clearly breathing shallowly due to the pain. The magus handed Albrecht the flask of painkiller again, and they all were silent as the elder squire took a few sips.
“Let us move,” the knight said to everyone else. Then he reached down and did his best to help his eldest squire back to his feet as painlessly as he could manage.
An hour later and they reached the old farmhouse. Sir Gomly quickly explored the ruin for any other inhabitants, then he and the magus helped Albrecht into the building and laid him down to rest. The remainder of the group filtered in and found places to lay down, exhausted from the long trip. The crescent moon that had just topped the trees when they left the sewers was now half way across the sky and the eastern horizon was starting to turn a lighter shade of blue.
Emlin had never felt so tired from this trip before in her life. She dropped down in a corner and was asleep before the Sir Gomly had a chance to hand her some food.
She awoke once in the middle of the night, freezing from her soaking wet pants and boots. She kicked off the boots and laid them out to dry. The old knight was standing in one corner, dark rings under his eyes.
Noticing her shivering, Sir Gomly instructed her to climb under a small blanket that someone had laid over Ishild. She nodded and crawled over to the part of the ground on which the other girl lay, then curled up next to the pretty girl with a corner of the blanket for herself.
And then she slipped again into the welcome grip of sleep.
Part of this feeling was due to an increased sense of paranoia on her part – more people, especially this lot that was unaccustomed to the area, made more noise that could draw more attention from distant eyes. The other part was an actual lengthening of the trip; Albrecht was having a hard time keeping up and Ishild was sulking over her wounded pride and kept lagging behind.
After an hour, as they neared the river, Sir Gomly whispered loudly for a halt. His elder squire sat down with obvious relief while the younger boys sat down and took off their packs. Ishild slowly moved over to the magus and started whispering to him.
Probably complaining about me, Emlin thought.
Emlin decided to stay over by Albrecht rather than suffer the sullen glares of the girl or potential reprimands by Magus Altefalke.
Gomly took this time to take a look at Albrecht’s wound, lifting the boy’s shirt and touching the hideous purple and yellow bruise that was revealed. The squire winced at his master’s touch and nodded with gritted teeth rather than speaking when the knight asked him questions about whether pressure at different points hurt.
Eventually, Gomly nodded in return.
“It does not seem like the ribs are broken, which is good. But I expect they could not feel much worse for you even if they were. You have done well, boy, though you would have done better if you had kept your wits about you a bit more.” The knight patted Albrecht’s head affectionately, taking some of the sting from the criticism. “Still, I am very proud of you. And I bet you have learned your lesson well enough. I’ll see if the magus has something for the pain.”
Gomly got up and walked over to Altefalke and began talking quietly with him. Albrecht smiled as he closed his eyes and tried to relax.
“How did you get to be so good with a sword?” Emlin asked after several minutes of silence.
“I don’t know about good,” Albrecht said, his face grimacing as he shifted position, keeping his eyes closed. “Sir Gomly has taught me what I know about holding a sword. But I still have a lot to learn. I’m definitely not as good as my master. If I was, I wouldn’t have gotten a mace to the ribs, now would I?”
Emlin shrugged, even though the squire couldn’t see her.
“I’m just lucky it was a clubbing I got. If that guard had had a sword, I’d have been dead.”
After another moment or two of quiet, Albrecht opened one eye and turned his head slightly towards her. “To be honest, though, you could probably be almost as good with a sword as I am with a few months’ practice.”
“Maybe.” Emlin smiled at the idea of being as good with a sword as she imagined Albrecht to be. Albrecht smiled back and then closed his one eye again.
A few minutes later, the knight returned with a small flask.
“The magus says to drink a small swallow of this.” Gomly helped Albrecht sip from the flask, before taking it back to return to the magus’ satchel. “It will not stop the pain, but it may ease it a little.”
Emlin decided that she had a bit more respect for the sorcerer, too, even if she still didn’t really like him. It had been an amazing, if slightly terrifying, bit of magic he had performed to set the waters of the sewer aflame.
When Sir Gomly called for everyone to get moving again, she helped Albrecht up and held onto his arm until he got his balance. Then she returned to her place at the head of the troop.
When they reached the river’s edge, the Cabbage Girl made them wait for over a quarter of an hour, looking for telltale bubbles or suddenly rising forms in the water. The dark made it nearly impossible, though.
“What are we waiting for?” demanded Balduin, the squire that was closest to her own age, from further back in the line.
“Sea crocodiles,” she said, turning back to face him. “Easily as big as a man. They like to swim up the river here from the bay.”
The boy gulped at the idea.
Eventually, though, she was forced to relay her concerns to Sir Gomly.
“It’s too dark to tell if there are any in the water.”
“Is there nowhere else to cross?”
“Not that I know of. But I only know the path me and my brother used to take.” She shrugged. “I don’t know much else about anything outside the city.”
“Then this is where we must cross.” Gomly stood up and called back to the rest of the group: “Come along everyone. Be careful and stay together!”
The water was extra cold in the chill night air. It soaked through her new breeches and boots, numbing the skin up to her waist.
Perhaps I won’t feel it when one of them grabs me, she thought morbidly. She shivered and then took a deep breath as she pressed forward through the river’s current.
Gomly had drawn his sword and followed close behind with the remainder of the party following behind him.
Emlin felt the way through the dark waters with her booted feet, hoping beyond hope that she would not come face-to-face with any of the monsters she had seen swimming in this river from time to time. She tried to stay focused and keep moving, telling herself that she had only seen two of the beasts in as many years.
She had just reached the opposite shore when someone started screaming.
Emlin scurried up the small embankment, desperate to get out of the water – all philosophical morbidity gone from her thoughts. Once she was out of the water, she turned to see the knight and Albrecht rushing back through the river, taking large, exaggerated leaps with each step. Someone was thrashing wildly in the middle of the current while the rest of the party were taking awkward, splashing steps towards Emlin, trying to get themselves out of danger.
Taking a quick glance over every else nearing the shore, she suddenly realized who was missing: Balduin.
It was a confusing scene for several moments. Albrecht was trying to grab the screaming, thrashing boy in spite of the immense pain in his own ribs and haul him from the river, while the boy seemed to be fighting the elder squire as much as, if not more than, he was helping. Sir Gomly was hacking down with his sword into the dark waters, striking wildly at something Emlin could not see. She could see a loaf of bread, half a round of cheese, a small pot, and several bits of clothing floating down the river, spilled from Balduin’s pack as he wrenched this way and that in the water.
Finally, Albrecht managed to get an arm under Balduin’s armpit and around the younger boy’s opposite shoulder and began pulling him towards the shoreline and out of the river.
When the two of them reached the shore, Emlin could see that the leg of the boy’s pants were torn just under the knee but could see no more before the magus pushed her out of the way.
Albrecht dumped Balduin against a tree. Then, as the magus was inspecting the younger boy’s wound, Albrecht took a few steps and collapsed next to his fellow squire.
“This doesn’t look terribly bad,” said the magus. “Hardly a small cut, really.”
It was then that they turned at the sound of a loud thump.
Sir Gomly stood over a piece of heavy stump, with jagged, broken roots pointing in various directions, still wet with the river water from which it had been pulled.
“There is your attacker, my young fool of a squire.”
Everyone stared for several moments, before Korbinian, the youngest, began to giggle.
“Shut up,” Balduin commanded. But now everyone except Balduin and Sir Gomly was smiling. Emlin had to cover her mouth when a chuckle escaped her lips.
“You shut up, too,” the middle squire barked at her, his face turning a deep shade of red from the terrified white it had just been. “I bet there was never any stupid crocodiles in that river and you just made ‘em up!”
“Enough.” Sir Gomly’s voice was very serious. “Your foolish screaming may have led our enemies or who knows what else right to us, idiot boy. Not to mention half the supplies in your pack are now a mile down the river and the other half are water-logged. Now get up before I give you a clout that you will never forget.” He reached down and dragged the boy up by his soaked shirt. The knight turned his furious eyes back to Albrecht, softening his speech. “Are you all right?”
Albrecht nodded, but was clearly breathing shallowly due to the pain. The magus handed Albrecht the flask of painkiller again, and they all were silent as the elder squire took a few sips.
“Let us move,” the knight said to everyone else. Then he reached down and did his best to help his eldest squire back to his feet as painlessly as he could manage.
An hour later and they reached the old farmhouse. Sir Gomly quickly explored the ruin for any other inhabitants, then he and the magus helped Albrecht into the building and laid him down to rest. The remainder of the group filtered in and found places to lay down, exhausted from the long trip. The crescent moon that had just topped the trees when they left the sewers was now half way across the sky and the eastern horizon was starting to turn a lighter shade of blue.
Emlin had never felt so tired from this trip before in her life. She dropped down in a corner and was asleep before the Sir Gomly had a chance to hand her some food.
She awoke once in the middle of the night, freezing from her soaking wet pants and boots. She kicked off the boots and laid them out to dry. The old knight was standing in one corner, dark rings under his eyes.
Noticing her shivering, Sir Gomly instructed her to climb under a small blanket that someone had laid over Ishild. She nodded and crawled over to the part of the ground on which the other girl lay, then curled up next to the pretty girl with a corner of the blanket for herself.
And then she slipped again into the welcome grip of sleep.
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