Jerrol feinted to the left, before twisting into a thrust towards his opponent’s chest. The daggers screeched to the hilts as he moved in counterpoint; they leapt apart and circled until his opponent collapsed to the ground as Birlerion slugged him in the head with his sword. Jerrol swayed, clutching his hand to his side as he watched Birlerion sheath his sword before checking the man. Birlerion grimaced, and he knew the man wouldn’t be standing up again.
“Jennery?” Jerrol gritted his teeth as he straightened up.
“He’s out cold, looks like they took him unawares. He is going to have a major headache on top of his cold.” Birlerion tutted unsympathetically.
“Bring him in under the shelter; let’s make him comfortable at least,” Jerrol said as he turned away to inspect his injury. Not good. A long, jagged slice across his ribs stung, sluggishly bleeding along its length. Not down to the bone, but it would need stitching nonetheless. His jacket had blunted much of the thrust; otherwise, he would be the one lying on the floor and not rising.
Jerrol rummaged in his saddlebag and slapped a cloth against the slice, tying the ends together and tucking his shirt in tightly to hold it in place; they needed to get in the warm and get some light so that they could tend their wounds. He squatted beside Jennery, who was very pale and beginning to groan. Hopefully, it was only a concussion, though he was wheezing alarmingly.
“We can’t stay here. We need to get Jennery somewhere warm before anyone else finds us.”
Birlerion peered out at the misty forest. “I’m surprised anyone found us at all in this.”
“You can’t say they aren’t persistent. We need to get to Greenswatch, it’s only a couple of miles further on.”
Between them, they managed to get Jennery upright and steered him out to his horse, which Birlerion had saddled. “Do you think you can stay on if I help you up?” Jerrol asked, gripping his friend’s arm to keep him balanced.
“I’ll help him,” Birlerion interrupted. “You’ll make your side worse.” He must have seen Jerrol’s makeshift first aid. “Wait for me, and I’ll help you with your horse.”
Jerrol leaned woozily against Zin’talia, who was nickering with concern. He had lost more blood than he had thought and was feeling lightheaded. Maybe he should return to Old Vespers and clear his name; he was beginning to get fed up with being attacked.
He stared out into the dark forest. The wind was starting to rise; his cloak flapped in the strengthening breeze, a precursor to the next deluge. The rustling trees swished ahead of him, and slim saplings swayed as a sudden downpour drummed on the sodden ground and drenched them.
Chapter 15
Greenswatch
The little mackerel-coloured Arifel popped into view in front of Jerrol, scolding him about his location. He hovered, unimpressed with Jerrol being out in the rain when he could be warm and cosy inside. “Believe me,” Jerrol muttered, shivering inside his cloak. “I would much prefer to be warm and cosy.” The Arifel flitted away from the outcrop before returning to hover in front of Jerrol again, chittering pointedly.
“Hmm, Ari is saying he can take us to shelter, better than a night amongst the rocks,” Jerrol called behind him as he watched the little Arifel.
“Huh, you gonna believe that fluff ball?” Jennery wheezed. “He doesn’t even know where we are!” The Arifel popped into view in front of Jennery, scolding energetically, flapping his wings in Jennery’s face. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Jennery cried, surrendering to the little creature.
The Arifel shook himself over Jennery, squawked and disappeared again. Jennery sighed and shook his head as Birlerion helped lever Jerrol carefully into his saddle. Birlerion paused to look up at Jerrol in concern before mounting his horse; he took Jennery’s reins and led him down the track after Jerrol and the Arifel.
About half a mile down the track Jerrol saw a dim light wavering amongst the trees. “Come quickly,” a voice called, “there is a barn to your left you can put your horses in. Reese will see to them for you.”
As Jerrol approached the structure, a large man opened the barn door, spilling golden light out into the night. “Quick, bring yourselves inside, this is no night to be out,” The man’s voice reached them through the rain as they approached.
Jerrol slid to the ground, leaning heavily against Zin’talia as he caught his breath against the jarring. He straightened as a wave of energy emanated from her, his bloodied hand convulsing on her mane. She tossed her head in agitation, whinnying softly.
The man took Zin’talia’s reins from Jerrol’s nerveless hand and led her into a stall. “Don’t worry. I’ll give her a good rubbing down. She’ll be fine,” the giant of a man said, his thatch of red hair glinting in the light of the lantern. He towered over Jerrol, even broader across the shoulders than Jennery. He soon had the saddle off and passed the saddlebags to Birlerion, who turned to help Jennery dismount. “Go on, get yourself in and dried off.” He reached for Jennery’s horse and led him into another stall. “I’ll be in in a moment, let me settle these for you,” he repeated, shooing them towards the cottage.
Jerrol and Birlerion exchanged a glance but did as he bid and steered Jennery towards the small cottage to be greeted by the welcoming smell of coffee in the warm moist air. A slender woman with masses of reddish-blonde curls stood ready to welcome them. “Come in, take off your cloaks. Here, dry yourselves off, it’s such a terrible night.”
“Thank you. You are very kind.” Jerrol wiped his face with the towel she handed him. She turned back from hanging up his cloak to take Jennery’s. Her smile lit up her face. “These cloaks protect well, but even the Lady can’t stop the rain.”
Jennery groaned. “But that means she can’t stop the mud
