2-- First Between (Part B)

When Oran stumbled back into consciousness he gagged on the smell of death. A painful light stabbed through his closed eyelids. When he coughed roughly a cup of water was pressed gently against his lips. He drank thirstily. His mouth seemed to be filled with the dust kicked up by the stampede of horses that to thunder through his head. Oran groaned softly and his head was gently laid down. He drifted back to sleep without opening his eyes.

Upon waking the second time Oran opened his eyes instantly. For some reason, his first thought was that he was too late. Too late! But he did not know what he was too late for. Suddenly he remembered the battle, and he remembered the girl going down among the press of enemy. He tried to sit up and look for her, but he ached all over and could do nothing more than raise his head.

“Battle?” He muttered to himself. “A couple of hundred men is hardly a battle.”

( Awake. Awake. Awake. ) Brek’s thoughts jumped at Oran as he knew the wolf himself would in a moment and he waited for it almost happily. But the wolf didn’t come.

“No, Brek. Gently.” Lissa was carefully holding the wolf as he tried to rush to Oran’s side. Oran awkwardly, slowly, levered himself into a sitting position and watched the two together. He didn’t think the wolf had ever let anyone else touch him and certainly would not have let anyone hold him back.

( Let me go, ) the wolf pleaded mentally, as if he could not have broken free quite easily. It was only Oran that could hear his thoughts.

“You must be careful, or you will hurt him.” Lissa looked slowly up at Oran.

When she took her arm away Brek managed to control himself enough to walk slowly across the small distance to his human friend. However the whole back half of his body was wagging back and forth and his head bobbed up and down. When the wolf reached Oran he scrubbed at his face with his tongue, stopping occasionally to bark his pleasure out loud. The wolf’s thoughts tumbled through Oran’s head like a litter of puppies and he had trouble simply following them.

( I bored. Want to play. Like trees. Don’t like when there’s no trees. Big fight. Play later. Your she nice. When go back to forest? Play? )

Oran laughed, answered questions consciously when he could and otherwise let his subconscious thoughts express what he wanted to say. He was glad to be alive and glad that Brek was there with him. That was all the wolf really wanted to know.

“Are you feeling better?” Lissa had been sitting watching as Brek and Oran had greeted each other and didn’t speak until the wolf had happily laid his head onto his friend’s lap.

“Yes. Thank you.” Oran scratched at the wide, ugly scar that cut across his chest, from right shoulder to just under his ribs on his left side. His well muscled chest and torso were also covered with dozens of tiny cuts.

“Everyone says I have you to thank for my life. I have to wonder why.” Lissa drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs, as if to protect herself from the one who had saved her.

“Why is that?”

“Because I know your secret. I know who you really are.”

“You mean what you said about me being an assassin was true?”

“Are you telling me you really don’t know?”

“The fact I was an assassin obviously saved us from Rohan. Do you think I would let myself be killed because I didn’t want you to know a secret?”

“You really don’t remember?” She stared at Oran’s face as she rocked back and forth. “I was the one who gave you that scar. The night you killed Heather’s father. When you tried to kill Heather.”

“I...” Oran looked nervously about. He was lying in the shade at the edge of the forest, just twenty yards from where the land rose up like a wave at the start of the Uplands. He was that close to home but still completely lost. “I…” He rubbed at the scar, not wanting to believe.

Lissa suddenly surged to her feet and started to walk to where Heather was sitting. She turned back before going half a dozen paces. “Why did you do it?” Tears stood out in her clear blue eyes and she whispered fiercely. She strode back to stand over him. “Why did you kill Marse? And more importantly, why are you here now?”

Oran took a deep breath. “I cannot tell you why I killed Marse. I still cannot remember anything about it. I can’t remember ever seeing Marse. I knew exactly where Heather’s house was last night, but I cannot remember ever being in Dramoon.” He paused and looked to where Heather was sitting with her other female servant. “And I am here now because the Highlands are my home, the only home I have even known. I think it should be free from the Emperor and for that a leader is needed. Heather seems suitable and is offering herself for the job.” He plucked at the grass absently and watched Lissa. He found himself desperately wanting her to believe him, as he believed her.

“And I suppose you will be king?” The girl’s voice was mocking. “I think Heather is above marrying an assassin.”

“I am not an assassin,” Oran said. He looked away, towards where the Grey Wolf Mercenaries were gathered. Towards Heather. Towards the safety of the forest. “I do not know what I was in a past life, but in this one I am not an assassin.” He plucked at the grass, letting the breeze take the stalks from his fingers, watching them float to the earth.

Lissa turned and walked quickly to her mistress, wiping at her eyes and already answering one question or another.

Oran sat silently, watching as the women talked. Now and then a word would float to him or Lissa would flick her hair and, for a moment, gaze in his direction. Heather was lying back on her elbows with her head tilted, exposing her face to the sunlight. The shoulder of her riding habit had fallen away to reveal a creamy curve of neck and shoulder and the soft material was pulled tightly across the swell of her breasts. She really was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen; long shapely legs, a smile to stop armies and long auburn hair framing a round face and almond eyes. At twenty summers she was a couple of years younger than Oran, but to him she seemed so much older.

The two servants, Gurda and Lissa, could not really be compared with Heather because of the age differences. Gurda was a sturdy, calm woman of perhaps fifty years. Her grey hair was pulled back away from her face and tied into a bun. Her face creased into a permanent frown of concern. Lissa had sharp angular features and clear blue eyes. She was sixteen or seventeen and there was little doubt that she would turn into a beautiful woman. Whether she would match Heather could not be said.

( She smells nice, ) Brek said sleepily, scratching at his ear.

Oran looked from Heather to Lissa and back, wondering whom it was the wolf was talking about. “No she doesn’t,” he said, almost as an afterthought. He tapped the wolf playfully on the nose. But he thought Brek was probably right, whomever he was talking about, and it was his thoughts that the wolf understood.

***

“Oran?” Rohan called. He was tall and lean, but his forty years seemed to be catching up with him. The man’s face was creased with lines and he hand gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword as if for comfort. His scalp glistened with sweat “The dead have been buried under two separate mounds as you asked. What now?”

“How many men do you have left?” Oran was not used to giving orders to Rohan. The veteran mercenary had deferred to him almost totally since the previous morning, however, and seemed happy to continue doing so.

“Of the eighty that started the fight thirty are still alive. There is also Ragdan and a boy named Jayko who were with Heather. Jayko was seriously injured and won’t be doing anything for a while. Not bad really, seeing there were about a hundred and ten men with Sarzac.”

“Good.” Oran closed his eyes for a moment and ran his fingers through his long black hair. “I will take Heather, her servants, and any volunteers.” He wandered a little way northwards, towards the city. “You take the rest and go back to Dramoon and take control of the Queen’s men. They should be gathering in Market Square by now. A little scruffy haired fellow is organising things-- you should find him easy enough. Work with him to start clearing the city of the Emperor’s men.

“The ones that go with me…” Oran stopped and looked around, wondering just what he would do. When the idea came to him it seemed so obvious, for no apparent reason, that he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it immediately. He turned about to face the south. “I will take the others into the forest… to keep an eye on Heather… and join you in a week or so.”

“Very well, we can do that. But why?”

“What?”

“You don’t know why you are giving me the orders. You are just making excuses and relying on luck.”

“Well, I don’t know why I would want to go into the forest. Why would I want to do that?” He shrugged and smiled. “I don’t know what’s happening. Well actually that isn’t right. I know what’s happening, I just don't know why.”

“But as long as I assume you own the Mercantile, then we shall do what you say?”

Oran nodded and watched as the Captain of the Grey Wolf Mercenaries walked away shouting orders and gesturing to members of his troop.