Medieval 03 - Enchanted

caressed
Ariane’s cheek as delicately as a shadow. The tenderness of
the gesture was at odds with the gaunt planes of Simon’s face
and the marks of recent battle on his body.
    “Try to tear a strip of cloth from the hem of
her dress,” Erik suggested.
    Dominic reached for the dress, only to be stopped
by Erik’s hand.
    “Nay, let Simon do it,” Erik said.
Then, turning to Simon, “When you hold the fabric, think of
Ariane’s need to have the flow of blood staunched.”
    Simon stripped off his hawking gauntlet, took the
fabric between his strong hands, and pulled. The cloth parted as
though along a hidden seam. Nor were any raveling edges left
behind.
    “You did that as well as any Learned
healer,” Erik said with satisfaction.
    “Did what?” retorted Simon. “The
stuff came apart in my hands. “Tis a wonder the dress
hasn’t fallen to pieces and left Ariane wearing only her
chemise.”
    Erik smiled slightly and said, “Now, bind the
strip around Ariane’s wound. Do it so tightly that a dagger
would have difficulty getting between cloth and skin.”
    When Simon shifted Ariane in order to bind the
wound, she moaned. The sound hurt Simon more than any of the blows
he had received fighting renegade knights.
    “Why didn’t you run to safety,
nightingale?” Simon asked, his voice both soft and rough.
    There was no answer but that of the Learned fabric
clinging like lint to Simon’s thigh while he worked to bind
Ariane’s wound.
    “You would have been safe,” Simon said
to Ariane under his breath.
    “And you would have been dead,” Erik
pointed out.
    Simon opened his mouth but no words came for a
time. He hissed a Saracen phrase.
    “I am a knight,” Simon said finally.
“Death in battle is my lot. But Ariane…Ariane
shouldn’t have to fight for her own life, much less for the
life of her husband!”
    “Cassandra would disagree with you,”
Erik said. “The Learned believe that we all fight—man,
woman, and child—each according to need and skill.”
    Simon grunted. Yet despite the grimness of his
expression, his hands were gentle on Ariane’s body. Even so,
she moaned from time to time as he worked.
    “Nightingale,” he said softly.
“I’m sorry, but I must hurt you in order to help
you.”
    “She knows,” Erik said.
    “How can she?” Simon asked coldly.
“She is senseless.”
    Erik looked at the amethyst fabric lying placidly
within Simon’s grasp and said nothing.
    Overhead, a peregrine arrowed down out of the sky,
trilling a sweet, uncanny greeting. A second falcon followed, its
pale feathers bright against the sky.
    Dominic pulled on Simon’s hawking gauntlet
and whistled Skylance’s special call. The gyrfalcon hovered,
then settled onto Dominic’s arm, accepting captivity once
more.
    When Erik stood and held out his arm, his peregrine
swooped down with heart-stopping speed. At the last possible
instant, the falcon’s wings flared. With dainty care, the
peregrine landed on Erik’s hawking gauntlet.
    “Well, Winter, what have you to show
me?” he asked softly.
    Then he whistled an ascending trill. The peregrine
cocked her head, watching him with clear, knowing eyes. Her hooked
beak opened and astonishingly sweet trills poured out. For a few
moments bird of prey and Learned man whistled to one another.
    Then Erik’s arm moved with swift, muscular
ease,launching the peregrine back into the
sky. Winter climbed rapidly, vanishing into the distance.
    “The outlaws are still running,” Erik
said, turning back to his human friends. “Stagkiller and Sven
still follow. They hold to an ancient trail.”
    “Do you know where it leads?” Dominic
asked.
    “To Silverfells. Stagkiller will bring Sven
back to the keep.”
    “Why?” Dominic asked.
“Shouldn’t we know where the renegades are
camped?”
    Erik said nothing.
    Simon glanced from the gyrfalcon on Dominic’s
arm to the equally fierce profile of Erik, son of a great Northern
lord.
    “Lord Erik?” Dominic asked.
    The Glendruid Wolf’s voice was polite, but he
meant to have an answer. The well-being of too many keeps rested on
peace in the Disputed Lands.
    “The land of the Silverfells clan is
forbidden to the Learned,” Erik said curtly.
    “Why?” asked Dominic.
    Again, Erik said nothing.
    Simon stood, lifting Ariane with him.
    “Come,” Simon said impatiently to his
brother. “We must get Ariane to safety.”
    For a few instants Dominic’s eyes glittered
with the same hard light as the fey crystal in