She blushed. “No, I am only assisting the healers.”
Huma attempted to rise and discovered he was still too weak for such a maneuver. He grimaced in pain. Gwyneth eyed him as one might eye a bad child.
“Do not try that again.”
“I do not think I could. Did not one of the clerics heal me?”
“There are only a very few of them in camp. You will have to accept what little aid they could give you. Even healers have their limits.” Although she still smiled, Gwyneth’s tone indicated that she thought the clerics overtaxed.
“Where are we?”
“In part of the westernmost woods of Solamnia. You were unconscious for a day’s ride. We are about that far from the front.”
“We won?” Huma could not believe that the lines had held.
“No one won. It was the same as always. If not for your group, the ogres might have broken through. Fortunately, they have failed again.” She paused, deep in thought, and then resumed in a new vein. “Enough of this war talk. Do you feel like eating something? You’ve not had food for the last two days.”
Huma agreed readily to some nourishment. He was dismayed, though, when Gwyneth began stirring a chalk-colored paste. She looked up, saw his expression, and smiled pleasantly. The spoon came out of the bowl. Gwyneth leaned down to feed some to Huma. He glared at the substance.
“It is not as bad as it looks, Huma. Taste some.” Feeling like a child, he gingerly opened his mouth. It was true, he discovered; the paste tasted better than he’d imagined. He forced himself to continue eating, more because he did not want to look foolish in her eyes than because of any desire for such food. Huma was quite pleased when the last of the stuff was gone.
Gwyneth also seemed pleased as she put the bowl away. “I’m sorry to leave you, but I do have other tasks. I’ll look in on you from time to time, I promise that.” He reached out a hand to her. “Thank you again.” She hesitated, and Huma dropped the hand out of embarrassment. They were saved any further awkwardness by Rennard’s appearance at the tent opening, Gwyneth gathered her things and whisked out of the tent. Huma’s eyes watched her leave, then focused on the knight.
“The minotaur said you were awake and recuperating. I was pleased to hear that.” The flat level of Rennard’s voice made it sound as if he were reading off a supply list, but Huma believed his words. Like Gwyneth, he knew that there was something behind Rennard’s perpetual mask of indifference.
Rennard’s visor was up. Huma had no trouble now staring into the face that so many turned away from. Rennard’s presence here was important. Few other knights cared enough about Huma to visit him.
Rennard kneeled next to him. “Keep your guard up at all times, Huma. It is your one failing.”
“That and being struck on the head.”
The thin lips pursed into a slight smile for only a moment. “Yes. You must put a stop to that as well. It could prove detrimental.”
Had he not know better, Huma would have taken the statement as serious. “What goes on? Gwyneth—?”
“The young woman?” Huma reddened.
“Yes—she said that we were back at a stalemate once more.”
Rennard sighed and reached up to remove his helmet. The act revealed frost-colored hair plastered to his head. Rennard was one of the few knights who chose not to sport the long, thick mustaches but rather to go clean-shaven; he was also one of the few who kept his hair cut short well above his collar. No one questioned these decisions; Rennard was Rennard.
“For the moment, that appears to be where things are. Bennett claims this is a sign that victory is ours. He repeats over and over that the big push by Crynus has crumbled. No one has seen or heard of Crynus since your brief battle with him. Bennett has even gone so far as to praise you in his own fashion.”
“Praise me?”
“I quote: ‘Thanks in part to that one’s astounding luck, the warlord Crynus may be dead or at least incapacitated.’ “
Huma turned away. Bennett was right, though. He had been lucky. A true knight would have made better use of the opportunity and assured himself of the warlord’s destruction.
“I know what you’re thinking, Huma. Stop it. You are every part the knight that Bennett and his lapdogs are. More so. You’ve not lost sight of the true world.” Rennard lapsed into an uneasy silence as Huma turned back to him.
“How long before they release me?”
“When you’re ready, no sooner. There’ll be more than enough waiting for you when you’re fit.”
“Lord Oswal—does he have anything to say?” Huma felt a tremor of fear. The elder knight was like the father Huma had never known.
Rennard stood up and replaced the helmet on his head. He nodded. “The High Warrior wishes you the best and speediest of recoveries. He says he still has the utmost faith in your abilities.”
Which was the High Warrior’s way of stating how proud he still was of Huma. It was a rare boost for the young knight’s confidence.
“Rest well, Huma. I will attempt to see you when next I’m free.”
Rennard departed, leaving Huma to his own thoughts. He wondered whether he would ever truly be a knight such as Bennett, Lord Oswal, or Rennard. He thought of the evil warlord Crynus and wondered if that dark figure would bother to seek personal vengeance on an insignificant person such as Huma.
Something padded softly by the tent where Huma lay. Not a horse, more like a hound. A slight stench wafted to his nostrils. He heard something scrape against the wall, as if to test its strength. The light of the gray day allowed Huma only the vaguest glimpse of something.
A cleric of Mishakal entered the tent to check on the conditions of the wounded. The form on the other side of the wall scurried away, nearly silent despite its sudden movements. The odor quickly dissipated.
“Cleric?”
The mere presence of the elderly cleric soothed Huma. The cleric was short and slightly rounded. There could have been no more than two dozen hairs on his entire head.
“I am Broderin, May I be of assistance to you?”
Huma thought carefully before speaking. “Are —are there any wolves near the camp? Wolves or large dogs?”
Broderin stiffened as if he expected some great beast to come lunging through the tent flaps. Then he regained his composure. “Wolves? Dogs? There may be a few of the latter, but not anywhere near here. As for wolves . . .” The cleric chuckled nervously. “A wolf among the ranks of Paladine’s knights? I think not. There are no wolves save those on the other side of the field, my son. Regrettably, most of them are of the intelligent kind. Why do you ask?”
“I thought I saw one.”
This sent the old man into another fit of anxiety. Though this voice was more or less steady, his eyes darted hither and yon, as if seeing wolves everywhere. “You must be mistaken, my son, or perhaps you are suffering delusions due to your wounds. Yes, that must be it.”
“Are you positive?” It had seemed very real.
“I will have someone take a look around. Perhaps a stray hound escaped from somewhere. It is always possible.” The cleric turned to one of the other wounded, indicating that the conversation was at an end as far as he was concerned. Huma watched him momentarily and then closed his eyes.
His sleep was, thankfully, restful and uninterrupted save for one brief dream in which something pale stalked him through an endless forest. The stalker was always just out of sight and just behind him.
As with most dreams and nightmares, he did not remember it upon waking.
Chapter 6
Huma stepped outside the tent to view the camp for the first time. He did not know his exact location, but he could see that command had moved once again, nearer the border, apparently. This close to Ergoth, the land was dotted more regularly with trees—healthy ones. For reasons that could only be guessed at, the ogres had been more careful about avoiding the destruction of the landscape nearer the mountains. It could hardly have been due to the beauty of the land; as far as anyone knew, the ogres were not the most appreciative of races when it came to beauty. In some areas there was actual forest—tall, ageless trees that perhaps remembered quieter times, perhaps had even seen the first elves.