Those Left Behind

Seren took a roll of clean bandages from her pack and spread the herbs the elderly caretaker had pressed upon her before they left Rivergate. At the time, she had thought him almost too thorough and worried that she would carry things she never needed. Now, kneeling before a stranger with a long wound along her left arm, she was grateful she had not discarded them to lighten her load. The cut was not deep enough to expose bone, but blood still seeped from it. Seren settled the woman on a steady stone, washed the dirt from the surrounding skin, and pressed on the worst of the bleeding before beginning to dress it.

“This may hurt,” she warned.

“It's hurt quite enough already.” The woman managed a thin smile, then clenched her teeth as Seren wound the cloth around her arm. Seren was not especially practiced at this. The first turn was too loose, and she had to begin again. The stranger neither hurried her nor tried to take over, merely nodding when Seren looked up for reassurance. Both of them still had trembling hands, but the simple necessity of completing the task gradually steadied their breathing.

Kael made a circuit of the clearing to ensure the attackers had withdrawn before returning to the overturned wagon. He knelt beside the guard, whose clothing was soaked with blood, checked for breath and a pulse, then withdrew his hands. Without announcing what he had found, he closed the dead man's eyes and moved a broken plank that had fallen against his body. Seren saw him from where she knelt and turned back to the bandage. There was nothing she could do for the guard now.

“Why were they after you?” Kael asked when he approached. His voice was level, his hand nowhere near his sword, but the question was direct.

The woman glanced at the parchment scattered across the ground. “They weren't after me. They were looking for something.”

“What?”

She fell silent, her gaze resting on a broken crate. Seren secured the final turn of cloth without interrupting. After waiting, Kael asked a different question. “Who were they?”

“I don't know.”

Kael studied her. His years of battle had taught him that frightened people sometimes genuinely could not describe what they had seen. Other silences came from knowing that an answer might bring greater danger. This woman had plainly not decided how much to trust them. He did not press her or attempt to bargain with the fact that he had saved her life. He simply nodded and returned to the wagon.

She appeared both relieved and surprised. Looking at her bandaged arm, she said quietly, “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me just yet,” Seren said, putting away the remaining herbs. “You'll need to be careful when we walk. We don't want the cut opening again.” She glanced at the short sword still in the woman's right hand. “You were still fighting when we arrived. If you'd given up sooner, even Kael might not have reached you in time.”

The woman looked at her, uncertain how to answer. Kael, examining the wagon nearby, added without looking up, “She's right. We got here in time because you hadn't fallen.” He returned to the axle as though this were no more than a practical observation.

At last the woman laid her sword across her knees and picked up a roll of parchment from the mud. She carefully wiped its cover with the edge of her clothing, attending to it more closely than she had to her own wound. Kael saw her from the far side of the wagon but asked nothing. The axle had split through the middle, and the wheel rim was badly damaged. Three people could not possibly repair it before dark. The crates held books, herbs, and a few ordinary traveling implements, some broken beyond use and others worth carrying.

“My name is Elowen,” the woman said suddenly. She seemed to have weighed the decision before offering her name. “I'm from the Order of the Sacred Lamp. I was on my way to Riverport.”

Seren looked up. “I'm Seren.”

“Kael,” he called from beside the wagon, gesturing at the broken wheel. “Your wagon won't be going anywhere. We'll need another plan.”

Elowen looked toward the horses, her expression changing. One was dead. The other was still alive, but its foreleg was injured and it struggled even to stand. Kael crouched beside it, felt carefully along the leg, and tried to support it as it shifted its weight. The animal snorted in pain and sagged sideways. He stepped clear and allowed it to settle back to the ground.

“It can't carry anyone, and it won't get far on foot,” he said.

“Can it be saved?” Seren asked.

“Perhaps someone could treat it, given time, a place to keep it, and proper care.” He glanced toward the lowering sun. “We have none of those things.” He said no more, but Seren understood that this was not a problem they could easily solve. She went to the horse and stroked its neck, feeling the rapid trembling beneath its coat before drawing her hand away.

They gathered the waterskins that remained intact, a little dried food, and several undamaged rolls of writing. At first Elowen insisted on carrying more, until she tried to lift a crate with one hand and broke into a cold sweat from the pain. Kael did not scold her. He distributed the heaviest rolls among his own belongings and left her to decide which others mattered most. Seren retied the bundles and recovered a cloak that had escaped the blood and mud.

“Can you walk?” Kael asked.

“Yes,” Elowen replied at once.

“All day?”

She paused to consider her strength rather than answer out of pride. “If we go slowly, I think so.”

“Then we'll go slowly.” Kael looked toward the main road. “If we leave now, we may reach the next wayhouse before dark. If not, we'll find somewhere to camp.”

Elowen pressed her lips together. “I don't want to hold you back.”

“Everyone who's injured says that,” Kael remarked, lifting his pack. “They usually walk more slowly afterward anyway.”

Seren could not help laughing. She turned to Elowen. “He isn't blaming you. That's just how he talks.”

“I've noticed.” Elowen smiled too. It was faint, but the first genuine easing of her expression since the attack.

Kael looked between them, puzzled. “Was I wrong?”

“No,” Seren said, handing him a waterskin. “You were perfectly right.”

He still seemed unconvinced, but there was more important work to do. He returned to the dead guard, placed the man's sword upon his chest, and covered his face with a cloak. Elowen stood a few paces away, watching. When Kael straightened, she approached, intending to speak, but could find no farewell worthy of the moment. The guard had been hired to accompany her for only part of the journey. Now he would remain here forever. All she could do was remember his name—and remember that the attack had not been an ordinary robbery.

Seren stood beside her without urging her to move. After a while Kael said gently, “Come on. Let's find somewhere to spend the night.”

By the time they left the clearing, the light was noticeably fading. Elowen walked beside Seren, steady at first, then increasingly slowly. Kael did not call back for her to hurry. He adjusted his own pace and stopped at bends to listen and check the road ahead. Seren occasionally spoke to Elowen, though more often she simply kept her company in silence. The wagon, the dead guard, and the unidentified attackers remained behind in the forest. None of the three had truly left them behind in thought.