The Iron Gate by Adam Corby & asotir

Author:Adam Corby & asotir [Corby, Adam & asotir]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eartherea Books
Published: 2009-09-26T16:31:10+00:00

XI

Gundoen’s Dream

THE OLD WOMAN LED GUNDOEN through the Sontil gloom. From her rags she drew meal-cakes wrapped in leaves. He chewed upon the cakes slowly, finding in them sweetness and a source of strength.

After a while, she stopped and indicated they should rest. Gundoen laid the Southron’s body on the moss and found a hollow beside a root. He did not know if it was the hour for sleep, but sleep sucked him down for hours.

A gentle prodding of the seeress’ staff woke him.

‘I have looked upon your friend,’ she said. ‘His hurt is grave. If I am to do anything for him, we must get him to my home.’

‘He is no friend of mine,’ Gundoen said. But he shouldered the Southron’s body once more and followed her. Along the path she gave him another cake and he drank from a stream.

After two passes they came upon a steep hill, the base of which was broken by a wall of stone. Into the stone delved several cave-mouths. The old woman led Gundoen into the midmost cave. It was spacious and bright. Against one wall was a low pallet of unsquared logs and leaves, upon which Gundoen laid Southron’s body.

Melkarth removed the tunic and armor. When she laid bare the chest, Gundoen saw deep, blue-green gashes. The stench of them filled the cave.

‘But this is worse even than I feared,’ she said. ‘I do not know if there is anything any mortal strength can do here.’

‘It was the Darkbeast,’ he said. ‘It was the Darkbeast’s tongue.’

The sight and smell brought back memories of the battle. He shook his head and left the cave.

A shallow stream jumped down the hillside. Gundoen stripped and lay in it. The chill waters washed over him, soothing his limbs. It seemed as though his spirit drifted up from the stream-bed like smoke, and filled the space beneath the leaves. The memory of life’s sourness left him, and he slept the sleep of peace.

* * *

The weeks passed slowly in the Sontil. Gundoen regained his strength, except for an ache about his left hip. He hunted and fished, and gathered the leaves and roots the old woman described to him. That was a task he knew well, for he had often done as much for Hertha-Toll. Melkarth seemed to take a liking to him, and they often sat upon stone seats on the hillside and spoke of the ways of wood-beasts and the turns and tides of weather. Autumn drew to an end, and the bite of winter closed about the Sontil, and Gundoen gathered wood and stored food.

Upon the low pallet the Southron lay still. He had not opened his eyes since the battle of the Darkbeast. Each waking the Melkarth lay new dressings on his wounds, poultices and leaves crushed in steaming water. The bones set and the wounds healed, leaving behind them only whitish scars, but Ampeánor did not wake. Only the green gashes about his chest were unhealed.

Melkarth sent Gundoen out for still rarer herbs.

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