‘We won’t reach our destination right away. First, we must ride through the marshes. It’s a journey of at least twelve days, if we don’t run into storms or fog,’ Billie said. They had been moving quietly through the mist for a few hours. The sun had broken through and now there was only a faint hint of dampness left behind.
‘After that, we’ll need to find the Main Road, but I suggest we stay on the shoulder as long as possible.’ Billie set the mare into a slow trot. Oskar followed suit. ‘So before we reach Aiviborg, and the king’s castle, we’ll have to go through Sombre Wood as well.’
For the first long stretch of their ride, Zino trotted nervously next to Billie’s mare, but after many hours, as darkness fell, even Zino grew tired, and eventually Oskar was lulled into a sleepy equilibrium by the horse’s steady pace. His thoughts involuntarily returned to his village, his father, and the blacksmith’s boy… with half-closed eyes, he saw vividly how he had begged and pestered his father for a real sword, not one made of wood and not with dull edges, but a genuine, powerful, sharp sword of smooth, cold steel. Envy possessed him, as he watched a sword for sale at the blacksmith’s. Every time one was sold, Oskar felt more cheated than ever. He yearned for that sword more ardently than anything else. When his father returned from one of his countless journeys, Oskar prayed he would bring back a beautiful, foreign sword. But it never happened. When Oskar asked him about it, his father just said indulgently, ‘Weapons are not toys. You will get a sword in due time, but not yet. You are not old enough. You’re still a child.’
‘Not old enough. Just a child,’ Oskar repeated to himself. Anger rose up in him. Why did everyone treat him like a burden? Billie had not told him everything, Oskar was certain of it. Billie knew something about why Fenn had been taken, but Billie, did not trust him with this information. Why not? Billie was usually the one who treated Oskar the most like an equal, but not now. Not when it really mattered. Suddenly filled with this anger, Oskar stopped Zino so abruptly that it pranced and reared slightly.
‘What’s wrong, Oskar?’ Billie asked. ‘Are you okay?’ He stopped his own horse. Oskar didn’t respond. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ Billie said soothingly.
‘Why don’t you tell me what you know?’ Oskar shouted. His voice faded into the darkness and was swallowed by it, giving him a sense that the words only reached his own ears.
‘I promise you, I have told you as much as I know. I would never lie to you, I hope you trust that,’ Billie said, startled. ‘I have my theories, but they are nothing but guess work. To say them out loud would be senseless.’
Oskar gritted his teeth, gearing up for an argument that could release all the anger and frustration he had built up. However, Billie simply turned his back, urging his horse into a trot and disappearing into the dark. Suddenly (and he felt ashamed of this feeling), afraid of being left alone, Oskar spurred Zino into a gallop to keep up. When he caught up to Billie, he was about to start arguing again, but Billie, who seemed to anticipate it, said calmly, ‘You will learn the truth in due time but first, we must find Sonktianth and your father. It’s not safe to stop here, and there’s still a long way to go. I suggest we use this time to move forward instead of arguing.’
‘We will not make camp?’ Oskar said.
‘We need to continue a while longer. This is not a good place to stop.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because we are in the middle of a marsh. There is nothing but soggy ground here. We need to get to a place a bit further ahead where we can put our blankets without getting soaked during the night.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Oskar said. ‘I don’t understand any of this. Why can we not just write to the king? Tell him to send Fenn back?’
‘I think this is a decent place to stop.’ Billie’s mare came to a halt. Oskar could barely make out her shape in the dark. Relieved, he let himself glide down from Zino’s back. His whole body ached, especially his leg. It could barely hold him as he put weight on it. Sitting in a saddle for hours had cut off circulation and it was as if he was standing for the first time ever. Sharp jolts of pain pulsated through the wound.
The atmosphere was sombre as Billie cleaned Oskar’s wound and changed the bandages in the faint light of a small fire.
‘I want to help,’ Oskar said. ‘I can help. I’m not a stupid child.’
‘I know you are not,’ Billie said, squatting, leaning in over Oskar’s leg.. ‘I have already asked more of you than I ought. You should have stayed at home in safety. You shouldn’t have come in harm’s way like this.’ He lowered himself down to a seated position, and continued, not meeting Oskar’s eyes. ‘I didn’t dare leave you behind, because I don’t fully understand what is happening. Who would protect you, if the riders came back? Not many ten-year olds would have gone through so bravely what you just have, but you have to understand that I am your protector, and ten years old is still very young, even though it doesn’t feel like it. If you try to help me out in dangerous situations, I am compelled to help you before I help myself. Do you understand? Would you not also do the same if you were me?’
‘I want to protect you as much as you want to protect me,’ Oskar said.
Billie sighed.
The next many days, Billie and Oskar didn’t talk much. They rode through the day and took turns sleeping at night. Oskar was startled during his first watch when they suddenly found themselves surrounded by a pack of wild marsh dragons. The good thing about these creatures was that they were small and could be driven away with something as simple as dried Yndi herbs. But Oskar didn’t know that when he first saw them. He quickly woke Billie, who efficiently chased them away by tossing their only spice out towards them, spreading a strong, perfumed scent all around.
After that day, Oskar always kept an extra watchful eye during his shifts.
During the many long hours they rode in silence, Oskar began to think about what he had heard the men talk about at the inn… that the king was collecting taxes because he wanted to wage war. Billie said that Sonktianth had too much control. Oskar had always trusted Billie. Once his father had been on one of his long journeys. Oskar had already been alone in the house for about three days, and it was in the darkest time of winter. He had been quite young and afraid that his father would never come home, that he was trapped in the violent snowstorm outside. That’s why Oskar had set off to the town to visit Billie. Billie lived under the roof in a very small room, with space for only one person. He had let Oskar assist him with work, such as picking up groceries and shovelling snow. They had gone riding together. Oskar loved to gallop Zino up the hill outside the village, the same hill they had left by only a few days ago. He had seen Billie practice sword play in the back yard, clumsily launching at a hay stack, holding a sword with both hands. The sword had looked new. Unused, except for practice.
Seven days of monotonous travel on horseback had passed when Oskar suddenly caught a glimpse of something on the horizon. At first, he grew nervous, but then he could see what it was – a town. Zino sensed his eagerness, flicked his tail, and quickened his pace. They overtook Billie, and when Oskar looked back over his shoulder, he noticed that it was because Billie had brought the mare to a complete stop.
‘It’s a town,’ Oskar exclaimed, unable to conceal his relief. ‘Civilization! Real food!’ he continued as if Billie were dense.
‘We are close to Aiviborg now,’ Billie said. ‘We should be cautious.’ They rode forward at a walk. The town was farther away than Oskar had initially thought. After an hour, it was still just a jagged line low against the horizon. It took them another hour to get close enough to make out the town’s gate. The sign above it was discernible, but too far away to read. Suddenly, Billie stopped again. They had stopped beside a low, gnarled tree with long, slender branches that reached down to the soft ground and tall damp grass. It was the first tree Oskar had seen in five days. Billie dismounted, and Oskar did the same. Zino and Sun immediately began grazing. Billie sat beneath the tree with the reins in hand, and Oskar curiously followed his example. Why take a break so close to a town?
‘I have an uneasy feeling about that town. We don’t know if people answer to Sonktianth here or not. If they do, they might be on the lookout for two like us. I will ride over and see if there are any dangers,’ said Billie. Oskar stood up with him, but Billie stopped him with a stern glance.
‘Stay here until I return. It could be dangerous.’
‘But…’
‘No buts! It’s far too dangerous for you to come along. Stay here and take good care of Zino,’ he said. Then, with an elegant swing, he mounted his horse and galloped towards the town without looking back. Anger flared up in Matthias.
‘I’m not a child anymore,’ he whispered. He had wanted to shout it. He waited until there was some distance between him and Billie, then mounted his horse clumsily – his leg still hurt – and galloped after Billie, ready to reach for his small knife if necessary. All the while, he kept a safe distance to ensure Billie didn’t notice him. Zino’s hooves were soundless on the marshy ground. Suddenly, thunder rumbled across the sky, and raindrops began to fall. It had been cloudy since they set off, and rain had been intermittent, but within minutes, it was pouring. This was the heaviest downpour so far. Thunder rolled deeply through the air, and a bolt of lightning split the sky. Zino whinnied and reared, but Billie didn’t look back. The loud rainfall drowned out everything else. Soon, Billie reached the gate, Oskar a stone’s throw behind. He could now read the name of the town on the sign: Moerk Town.
A door in the gate swung open, and Billie rode through. Oskar lost sight of him. Then, a thudding sound was followed by a yelp.
Oskar had to use all the self discipline he could muster to not scream. He fearfully dismounted his horse. If anything had happened to Billie, it was his fault for not being there to save him. A lump formed in his throat from the sudden déjà vu overwhelming him. His father, alone against a multitude of evil knights, Oskar alone… Maybe there was another way into the city. There had to be one. There always was! Before he could turn around, a pair of strong hands grabbed him by the arm, over his mouth, and around his neck. The smell of sweaty man enveloped Oskar. He frantically kicked and bit as he had could. He heard his horse’s whinny. He was carried through the gate and thrown down. He couldn’t resist the force of the fall and his head slammed into the hard surface.
He opened up his eyes, his cheek flat against the wet cobblestones. The rain still fell relentlessly, and Zino puffed.
‘Zino,’ Oksar whispered.
‘Oskar!’
At first, he thought his horse had responded, but then he felt a pair of strong arms embrace him. Billie.
‘Why did you follow me?’ Billie’s voice was both angry and concerned.
‘Do you know him?’ a man asked brusquely. Oskar blinked away his dizziness and turned around. There were two men dressed in black cloaks, not dissimilar to the ones Sonktianth’s soldiers had been wearing, although it was hard to make out in the gloomy light. One of the men struggled to control the unruly Zino, who danced around. Billie’s mare stood placidly. It was the other soldier who spoke. He was also the tallest and broadest.
‘He’s my son,’ Billie said very convincingly, gripping Oskar’s shoulder.
‘Oh, really,’ said soldier said disdainfully. ‘And you’re out for a pleasant ride in the rain, are you? Where do you come from?’ At the last question, he raised his voice another notch, as if to convey his seriousness.
‘West Gate,’ Billie lied unscrupulously. The soldier spilled the contents of Billie’s saddlebags onto the rain-soaked cobblestones. It was only now that Oskar noticed they were in a deserted street inside the town’s gate. The houses were dilapidated, and there seemed to be not a soul around.
‘Don’t lie to me!’ the soldier roared. ‘I can see these things weren’t bought in West Gate. What Westerner might carry around such a fine compass, gold coins, dried fruits…’ he kicked the items as he named them ‘- a silver flask, it appears – ‘ (he tucked it into his own pocket) ‘- and a map – uh!’ His face suddenly contorted into a horribly grotesque expression. The map was of South Gate. A new lightning bolt split the sky, and Zino reared as thunder roared. It was as if only now the soldier noticed Oskar’s horse.
‘What a beautiful animal,’ he said silkily, impressed. Oskar gritted his teeth as the man affectionately stroked the horse’s neck. He clutched his father’s pendant. It was scorching hot. The soldier opened Oskar’s saddlebags, and among all his belongings, a pewter mug fell to the ground. The man prevented its escape across the cobblestones with a boot-clad foot. His boots and weight distorted the mug. The blacksmith had made that mug as a gift for Oskar.
‘That’s mine!’ Oskar screamed before he could restrain himself. The soldier picked up the mug and walked over to Oskar with slow, menacing steps. ‘So it’s yours, is it?’ he hissed. He was uncomfortably close now. He bent down so they were almost nose to nose. Everyone awaited with bated breath. Zino struggled and whinnied louder than ever before. The other soldier chuckled awkwardly. Then, he raised his hand and struck faster than Oskar could follow. Before he knew it, the palm connected with the side of his head, and he fell onto the rain-soaked cobblestones in an explosion of pain. The other soldier laughed loudly. The leader pulled him up by the hair and raised his hand to strike again. Oskar couldn’t focus. He closed his eyes and braced for the blow, but it never came. Everything went silent. The grip on Oskar’s hair loosened, and he slumped to the wet stones, too dazed to stand on his own. On the ground, he saw with half-open eyes that Billie stood very close to the leader. A knife was embedded deep in his chest. The look of astonishment didn’t have time to leave the leader’s face before he fell backward. Billie pulled out the knife, and now blood gushed out, winding like a stream among the edges of the cobblestones.
‘Billie!’ Oskar squeeked.
Billie, his face alight with hatred, dodged the sword that the other soldier had swung at him. He wasn’t swift enough to evade the next blow. He lurched to the side, but the sword cut a deep gash across his chest, causing him to collapse onto the ground.
‘No!’ Oskar crawled forward, struggling to get up, but still dizzy after the meeting with the cobblestones and the soldier’s hand. He tumbled into the attacker’s knees and both fell with a thump. Oskar punched the man everywhere he could find skin: on his face, his neck and his head. A pair of rough hands closed around Oskar’s neck and squeezed. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see… panic seized him. All he could think was that now he was going to die. He didn’t understand where he got the wherewithal from, but some part of him must have still been alert. He grabbed the little knife from his belt and stabbed at the man, he couldn’t see where the knife went in, but it was enough for the other to let go with a grunt. For what felt like a very long time, the only sound was that of Oskar gasping and coughing. He slowly got his breathing under control. Then all was silent.
Billie.
Billie lay in an awkward position on the cobblestones, bleeding. Oskar fell to his knees beside him, tears in his eyes. ‘Billie? Are you okay?’
Billie didn’t respond, Oskar took his hand and began to cry. ‘I did this. I did this,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have followed you, I shouldn’t have come with you at all.’ He lay over Billie’s chest. Zino rested its muzzle comforting against Matthias’s neck, but guilt and sorrow burned in his chest.
‘None of this is your fault.’
Oskar straightened up hopefully with a jolt. Esajas had opened his eyes slightly. He was alive!
‘It is! If I could just stop stuffing up.’
‘You did everything you could,’ Billie said. His breath was troubled. It sounded like every word cost him great effort.
‘Really?’ Oskar sniffled.
Billie nodded, but it seemed like his strength had been exhausted.
‘Wait here. I’ll get help.’
But what he saw as he stood up almost made him recoil. In the doorways stood fragile old women and men, emaciated children, and gaunt teenagers. Their clothes were so dirty and worn that Matthias immediately felt disgusted by them, then ashamed of himself at his own reaction. They were clearly very poor. A little baby cried in the arms of a thin woman. An old lady shouted instructions with a Western accent: ‘Fetch sewing thread, water, and clean clothes!’ A young girl obeyed immediately.
‘Help carry him inside.’
A couple of gangly, half-grown boys strode over to Billie and lifted him up. Oskar stepped back, a little gullibly perhaps, but he felt empty and totally powerless. He couldn’t think of a single thing to do. There was blood everywhere. Billie’s face was paler than he had ever seen anyone’s face be. Oskar took hold of Zino’s reins and was shown a makeshift shelter for him. No hay. They likely couldn’t afford it. Then he followed someone inside a house. Billie had been placed on a straw bed. An old woman was in the middle of removing his shirt. She pressed moistened cloths against the gruesome wound. Then she burned a needle and thread over a candle and began to sew. Several strong boys had to hold Billie down, because although he was unconscious, he twisted and turned, groaning in pain. Oskar forced himself to look even though it made his stomach churn and tears welled up in his eyes. Soon Billie lay still in the bed (the straw was damp with blood), with pale cheeks, peacefully closed eyes, and steady breathing. The old woman washed away the last traces of blood from the stitched wound and covered it with clean cloth. A young woman whispered something in her ear, and she sighed: ‘I know, dear, but was I suppose to just let him die?’
‘What is your name, boy?’
Oskar jolted. He was so tired, his head hurt, and he was filled with deep emptiness. He was about to answer truthfully, but then he remembered something he had been told ten days ago: to never tell anyone his real name. He mustn’t say where he was from or who his father was.
‘My name is Herb,’ Oskar lied wearily. He felt guilty for lying to people who might have just saved Billie’s life, or at least tried to. The old woman seemed to see through him, but she didn’t say anything.
‘Your father will pull through, I believe,’ she said.
Oskar did not correct her. He was just happy for the tiny hope growing inside him. It broke through the empty like a little ray of light.
The old woman guided Oskar to a straw bed, and he fell asleep as soon as he lay down.
He woke up later that night. The rain had stopped, and there was no more lightning. He tiptoed across the clay floor and out under the half roof where Zino stood. He wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck and cried until he felt ashamed. The horse nuzzled him comfortingly. He clutched his necklace. It wasn’t burning hot anymore, but had a pleasant warmth. He opened his palm and studied the little pendant. It wasn’t a pretty thing: small, round, silver coloured and plain. But his father had given it to him many years ago, and he always wore it. He went back inside to check on Billie. He stopped in the doorway. The old woman was sitting by the bed, keeping watch. Oskar stood beside her and looked over her shoulder at Billie’s peaceful face, thinking about Sonktianth. He tried to visualize him in his mind’s eye, but it was difficult.
‘It’s not safe to stay here,’ the old woman said then. ‘You must leave before dawn breaks, even though your friend isn’t well. I wish there was more I could do for you, but the soldiers might return as early as tomorrow morning. Take these herbs. They’ll keep the fever down. I know it’s not much.’
Matthias accepted it. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered.
A few hours later, Billie was securely bound to Sun’s back. Oskar rode Zino, holding Sun’s reins. They waved a silent farewell to each other, Oskar and the villagers. Now he was completely on his own.
