'Jors?'
He ducked an awkward blow. 'Outside, Brock. Now!' If anything happened to him, the Companions would get Brock to safety.
'There's two of you and one of him, you idiots! Don't let him protect the half-wit!'
:Chosen?:
:It's all right.:
Fortunately, neither man was much of a fighter. Jors could have ended it quickly, but as they'd just suffered a sudden terrible loss and weren't thinking clearly, he didn't want to do any serious damage. After a moment, he realized that had it not been for the old woman goading them on, neither would have been fighting. Maybe I should have Gervis deal with...
He'd forgotten the first brother. The piece of firewood caught him on the side of the head. As he started to fall, he felt unfriendly hands grab his body.
'No!'
Then the hands were ripped away, and he hit the floor. Two bodies hit the floor after him, closely followed by the third.
'Never hit a Herald!'
'Get up, you cowards! That's a Moonling-not a real man!'
'But, Ma...'
'He killed my grandson!'
Hers. Jors thought muzzily. Not grief Anger. Anger at the loss of a possession.
'You never loved him!'
Apparently, the child's mother agreed.
'You always complained about him! You said if he didn't stop crying you were going to strangle him! If anyone killed him...'
'Don't you raise your voice to me, you cow. If you were a better...'
'ENOUGH!'
The doors slammed open again. Hooves clattering against the floor boards, the Companions moved to flank Brock. From Jors' position on the floor, it looked as if there were significantly more than a mere eight muddy white legs.
'Don't lie there with your idiot mouths open! They're just horses!'
'They're not just horses, you stupid old woman!'
:Gervis?:
:I'm here, Heart-brother.:
Jors felt better about his chance of recovery. Gervis was angry but not frantic.
'A baby is dead. Is time for crying, not fighting. A Herald is hurt. You hurt a Herald.'
:Is that Brock standing up to the mean lady?:
:It is.:
:Good for him.:
'You will cry, and you will make the Herald better!'
'I will not.'
No mistaking that hate-filled voice.
'Then I will.'
Nor the voice of the child's mother.
For the first time, Brock sounded confused. 'You will cry?'
'No. I will help the Herald.'
:Out of spite...:
:You need help, Heart-brother. Your head is bleeding. Spiteful help is still help.: Jors got one arm under him and tried to rise.
:If you say...:
:Chosen!:
His Companion's cry went with him into darkness.
* * *
Jors woke to the familiar and comforting smell of a stable. For a moment he thought he'd dozed off on foal- watch, then he moved and the pain in his head brought everything back.
:Gervis!
:I'm here.: A soft nose nuzzled his cheek. :Just open your eyes.: Even moving his eyelids hurt, but he forced them up. Fortunately, the stable was dark, the brightest things in it, the two Companions. He could just barely make out Brock tucked up against Calida's side, wrapped in a blanket and nearly buried in straw. :How long?:
:From almost dark to just after moonrise. Long enough I was starting to worry.: He stretched up a hand and stroked the side of Gervis' face. :Sorry.:
:The young female made tea for your head. There's a closed pot buried in the straw by your side.:
The tea was still warm and tasted awful, but Gervis made him drink the whole thing. :I take it we're in the stable because you and Calida wouldn't leave me?:
:The old woman said the young woman could do as she pleased but not in her house. I do not want you to be in her house.: The obvious distaste in the young stallion's mental voice was hardly surprising. Even on short acquaintance the old woman was as nasty a piece of work as Jors ever wanted to get close to. :Brock told two of the young males to carry you here.:
:He just told them what to do and they did it?:
:They are used to being told what to do.:
:Good point,: Jors acknowledged.
:And,: Gervis continued, :I think they were frightened when they realized they had struck down a Herald.:
:They knew I was a Herald!:
:Knowing and realizing are often different. Had the blow struck by the child's father been any lower, they would have killed you and that frightened them, too. They were thankful Brock took charge. He saw you were tended to, he was assured you would live without damage, he groomed us both, and then he cried himself to sleep.:
:Poor guy. Good thing he was there. If he hadn't been, I wouldn't have put it past the mean lady to have finished the job and buried both our bodies.:
:The Circle would know.:
:We'd still be dead. Is this why Calida insisted on bringing him?:
:She has told her Chosen we need no assistance and convinced her not to ride to the rescue. The Herald Isabel agreed but only because she felt the townspeople would lay the blame on Brock.:
:That's ridiculous.:
Gervis sighed, blowing sweet, hay-scented breath over Jors' face. :There is already much talk against him taking a Companion.:
All of which he needed to know but didn't answer his question. About to ask it again, he stopped short. :Calida can reach Isabel from here? I couldn't reach you from here!:
:Nor I you.:
