Each watch fort had been heavily fortified, with stone walls and high battlements, modeled on the walls of Water’s Fall. Each with a deep well and storage warehouses for food. They’d been designed to allow a contingent of warriors to be self-sufficient in times of battle. But they had all fallen victim to the one enemy they could not hold against: Time. Walls collapsed, and the locals carried off the stone to build huts and low walls to keep in their sheep and pigs. Only a very few remained intact, and most of them were closer to the border than to Water’s Fall. While I’d read of them, I’d never seen one, since I’d never ventured more than a few hours from the city.
As we approached, I could see that this was one of the last remaining forts. Strong stone walls rose around the village proper, and the gates were logs, bound in metal. I could see the plague sign on the wood. The blood was dried. Epor watched our backs as Isdra stepped forward and pounded on the gates.
There was no response. We stood for a moment, hearing only the faint sounds of the army behind us, and the wind in the trees. I resisted the urge to look back again, to see if Keir was still watching.
Isdra pounded again. She stood with her hands on her hips, her head cocked, listening intently. “Nothing. I’m going in.”
Epor grunted, and stepped forward to boost Isdra up and over the gate. Her boots scrabbled against the wood as she pulled herself over. Epor gestured me back, getting his weapon ready and facing the door. But there was only the sound of bars being pulled back, and then the one side swinging open slowly. We slipped through, and took stock of the situation.
The middle of the square was quiet, with no sign of any people. In the center was a large stone well with windlass, and spare buckets so that any could help themselves to the water. The square was surrounded by buildings, all wooden and built snug next to its neighbor to fit within the stone walls. Of course, not all of the walls remained, some sections had been replaced with wooden palisades. But what should have been a village preparing for the evening meal was silent. It was quiet except for some house swallows that were squabbling over something nearby.
Epor and Isdra were both on alert, weapons out and held high. Epor had his club, and Isdra had her shield and sword. They kept me up against the gate, ready to get me out at the first sign of trouble. But the silence continued, and no one appeared in the square.
“The scout said someone shot at him from the walls.” Epor spoke softly. Isdra nodded, and I looked up. There were small battlements on both sides of the gate that were higher than the gate itself, with two wooden ladders leading up. “I’ll go.” Epor said.
I nodded. “I can check the—”
“No.” Isdra interrupted me firmly. “You’ll stay right here.”
It was no more than a few steps to the ladder. Epor secured his club, and pulled a dagger before climbing up. He moved fast, choosing the one to our right first, and was standing up at the top in but a moment. He knelt, disappearing from our view, then his head popped up again. “There’s a man up here with a bow, but I can’t rouse him.”
I took a step toward the ladder, but Isdra interfered. “No, Warprize. He’ll bring him down to us.”
I bit my lip in frustration, but Epor already had the man heaved up and on his shoulder. We watched as he carried him down and brought him to lay on the ground at my feet. I knelt and eased my parcels and basket down next to me. The man was older, his skin tan and weathered. I
placed a hand on his forehead to find it cold and clammy.
: “He’s sick.”
Epor and Isdra had maintained their watch, focused out, observing the buildings for any movement. “So, it’s illness?” Isdra asked, without looking at me.
“One ill man doesn’t make it so.” Epor growled. “Let’s wait a bit before we decide, eh? Let’s check further.”
“That house, the one with the shutters. It’s close and it looks like it might be a—” I paused for the right word. “A warleader’s home.”
Epor snorted at my use of the word, but he got the idea. “Come.”
“But this man—”
“Leave him.” Epor’s tone was hard, and I understood that he wasn’t giving me an option. They moved carefully, keeping me between them as we headed to the structure. Isdra rapped on the door with her pommel, even as Epor guarded our backs. When there was no response, she kicked the door in.
“Isdra…” I scolded.
“Sorry.” She shrugged, then stepped through the wide-open door as I peered over her shoulder. It was a sitting room, with a hearth, and chairs. There were stairs up, and a back door into what appeared to be a kitchen. There was no outcry, no response as she strode across the room and through the opposite door. I took a step, but Epor stopped me with a gesture.
Isdra reappeared immediately, with a grim look. “There’s a dead woman on the floor. No wounds.” She moved to the stairs, and disappeared. I could hear her footsteps on the floor above. She was back down in a moment. “A boy, dead in a bed.”
Epor grunted. “Illness, as you said, Warprize.” He was fussing with the cloth in his nose, trying to get it to stay in place.
“I wish I’d been wrong.”
He nodded his agreement, and stepped out of the building, back into the square. He put his head back and warbled a long cry. That was the signal to let Keir know that it was indeed plague that we faced. As the cry ended, we heard a response from over the wall.
Epor turned back to me. “They understand. Joden asks what kind of illness.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know yet.”
Epor warbled again, as Isdra joined me in the doorway. “Do you wish to look at the dead?” she asked.
“In the morning. I’m more worried about the living.” We hurried back across the square. Epor heaved the man into a sitting position as we gathered our parcels. “I need to get him in a bed and tend him.” I looked up at the sky. “You two need to start checking the buildings before we lose the light.”
Epor frowned. “Where?”
“There’s a shrine to the Goddess over in that corner, Epor.” I stood, and gathered up my parcels. “I can use it as a healing house. I’ll be fine there.”
“I don’t like leaving you alone. I will go and—”
Isdra snorted out a laugh. “Takes longer to argue her out of it than it will to search.”
Epor shook his head, but he pulled the man up and back over his shoulder. “As you say, Warprize.”
Thankfully the shrine was empty and quiet. It was a large space, with movable benches, used as a place of worship and a meeting area. In the back was a small sleeping room, with a hearth. No priest in residence from the looks of things. I had Epor deposit the sick man on the bed, and placed my packages on the side table within easy reach. Quickly, I stripped him of his clothing, then paused. There was a strong odor that not even the ginger could disguise. I pulled the cloth from my nose and was met with a foul, rank smell, coming from the body of my patient. Confused, I replaced the plugs and continued with my work. That was not a symptom of any plague that I knew of. What could this be? The Sweat? The Swellings?
I vaguely heard Epor and Isdra as they searched the shrine, but my focus was on my patient. He was unresponsive to my touch, cold and clammy skin, his breathing rough and uneven.
“Warprize.”
His armpits weren’t swollen, nor his neck. I reached for his groin to check-—
“Warprize.”
His groin wasn’t swollen, nor did he react as I pressed down. I’d start him on fever’s foe and—
“I swear an ehat could charge though this room and she’d never note it.”
Epor’s voice cut through my thoughts. I looked up to see him standing in the door, holding a bucket of water. Isdra was kneeling at the hearth, feeding a small fire, smiling at Epor’s jest. Epor placed the bucket beside the hearth. “The back seems secure. It’s surrounded by walls, and there’s but a small house back there.”