Penumbra (1)

Alys brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen across her face as she had leaned over the man who lay unconscious on the ground before her. He had a jagged wound across his belly, a nasty cut unlike any she'd tended before in her training. Whereas the weapons of her own people tended to leave the pierce of a spear, the rusty stab of a dagger or, at worst, the messy blunt trauma of a studded club, the weapons of the Enemy were sharper, serrated devices, made of strange materials that gleamed in the fading light, and sliced through flesh in a way that made unnatural wounds that bled and suppurated, requiring healing techniques that were often beyond the skills of even very skilled battlefield surgeons- and Alys was simply a medic. While Alys had never before seen such a weapon herself, or indeed looked on the visage of the Enemy, she had certainly heard much of the devastating effects of both, and now believed she was looking at such effects directly.

She looked over the ever-darkening horizon and felt a chill both within and without. Within, because she had never before been this close to the penumbra, the coming darkness, and the grim endings of a million tales told by firelight in her youth (which to be true she had not yet fully passed out of) recurred to her mind, previously vague visions of eyes and teeth in the dark now cementing into terrifying clarity before her eyes. Without, because she had spent most of her life up to this point in the warmer climes of Cardinal City, and the dimming of the sun, whilst still visible, and the chill of the approaching night had bought on what was to her a cold wind indeed, colder than anything she'd yet experienced, although sadly I must say that compared to what she was soon to endure, she would look back on the beginning of her trials as the last warm wisps of the hot world she was born into.

The man below her, a grizzled visage of more than thirty great turns, groaned and shifted slightly, still unconscious. She did not know his name, for she had found him in the state he was in, sheltered under a small makeshift bivouac in the shallow valley she now occupied. She had been on her way to the Frontier (of which we shall speak more of later) when she had seen him, and her medical training, and a natural instinct towards tending to others she had possess since she was old enough to walk, had kicked in almost immediately. His wound was dressed, but in the clumsy manner of the soldier, so she had redressed it more tightly with fresh bandages, and set about establishing whether he was safe to be moved. The fact that he had been left by his compatriots, whoever they may have been, indicated that they were either unable or unwilling to move him themselves- leaving a wounded man behind this close to the penumbra was tantamount to a death penalty- without the speed of a horse to escape, they would be left swallowed by the approaching darkness, as doomed as any soulless corpse left to carrion.

After she had checked his spine and his head for injuries, Alys broke down the small windbreak that had alerted her in the first place, and began to ponder how she would possibly lift such a large man on to the back of her horse. She called Atrius, her stallion, over with a whistle and a shout. He cantered over from a small clump of vegetation he had been nibbling at (a rare treat, since leafy vegetation such as this was virtually unheard of outside the twilight world created by the penumbra) to stand beside her and the tiny encampment. Needless to say that to anyone this close to the sunset, a horse served as both protector, bearer and best friend. Without Atrius to carry her, Alys too would be lost to the darkness. But more than that, she had been practically raised on his back, their easy familiarity with each other as innate to her as the groove she had worn into her saddle after a decade of use. She leaned back into his flank, briefly treasuring both his smell and the easing of the chilly air he provided, two familiar sensations in what was fast becoming an ever more alien environment.

"Well old hoss, any ideas on how we're going to get this big sack of meat onto your back?"

Atrius sniffed and shifted his head from side to side, which was his standard response to most questions that did not involve food.

"You always say that." she grinned, and gave him a pat, as much for her own reassurance as it was for his.

Giant hooves pawed the ground gently in front of the man's face, and he stirred. Alys dropped to one knee and gently shook the man's face.

"Hello there. Can you hear me?"

The man groaned again, and his eyes opened slightly, swimming out of focus.

"My name is Alys. I'm a medic. Are you awake?"

The man croaked in the voice of someone who had not had a drink in days.

"Where am I? It's so cold."

"You're near the Frontier. I was on my way there when I found you. Can you remember what happened?"

The man shook his head.

"The last thing I remember was...traveling with my..." He trailed off into thought, struggling to bring his thoughts into words.

"What is your name?" Alys asked, attempting to ascertain the extent of his injuries.

"I...my name...Borin. My name is Borin. I was part of a company. On the Frontier." His voice was barely more than a croak.

A small spark of anticipation leapt to Alys' throat. Perhaps he traveled with her brother's company?

"What company did you travel with. Were you stationed at a watchtower?"

"No...we were a patrol. We were attacked by..." his eyes darkened and he grimaced in a pain that Alys suspected had little to do with the wound in his gut. "...the Enemy... and I was wounded. My unit was scattered, I retreated here and made my camp. I must have passed out- I know not how long past."

"You left the Frontier?" If Alys was shocked, it was because abandoning one's unit and retreating from the line was considered treasonous behavior for a soldier of the King.

"It's...are you alone? Who are you traveling with?"

Alys answered, without thinking, in the easy way of one who has never been in true peril.

"I'm traveling alone, on my way to the Frontier. I'm to join my brother's company, they're stationed there. I broke away from the Tarkos Land Train about forty miles back."

"Tarkos is forty miles out already?" he asked, a look that Alys interpreted too slowly coming over his face.

"Yes, or thereabouts."

Alys felt a small, hot sting just beneath her chin, and it took her a very long moment to realize that it was the point of a dagger, the man's hand bringing it up from beneath him in a flash that belied his wounded state.

"Then I'm afraid I'm going to need your horse and his supplies, my lass."

The blood drained out of Alys' face and the coldness seemed to seep into her very bones. Her mind raced through the options. Borin was wounded, still prone, surely she could leap backwards and out of his arm's range, then retreat with Atrius? But fear kept her glued to the spot. His face was not far from hers, and she could make out the individual hairs of his beard, smell the foul breath of the long-slept.

"Do nothing more than think on it, lass." Born said, seeing the panic in her eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, I just want to be on my way. I'm sorry to leave you in the lurch like this, but I don't see many more horses coming my way very soon." His eyes were bloodshot and weary, but there was an iciness behind them that reminded Alys of the encroaching darkness around them.

"My horse can carry two, I can take you to the frontier..." Alys started to say, but was silenced as the man drove an elbow into her gut, causing her to double over for breath, as Borin staggered to his feet, still holding the dagger before him to keep her at bay.

Alys struggled to draw breath but it wouldn't come, she held her fists to her stomach and forced herself to breathe in, pulling great lungfuls of cold air into her chest. She fell a few steps to the right, away from the brandished knife, but now Borin was between her and Atrius, reaching for her stallion's reins even as he held his own stomach, the tight dressing she had applied restricting his movement.

"Please, don't leave me without my horse." Alys pleaded between breaths.

"Look," the man said, obviously torn about what he was planning to do, "you're near the Frontier anyway- you'll run into them before the night reaches you- you can pick up a horse there. This is my only way out." he coughed and spat out red phlegm onto the ground.

"We can both go together!"

"Towards the Frontier?" the man laughed, a thick throaty cough that held no mirth. "I'm never going back!"

Borin's hand left his stomach with a grimace and grabbed Atrius' reins, hauling himself up into the saddle, before quickly turning and again pointing the dagger towards her.

"Just wait for the Frontier to catch up with you, you'll be fine." he said, his iciness now betraying a small sliver of guilt. Too small for him to act on, Alys was now sure.

"Helios watch over you." he said as a farewell, then jabbed his spurs into Atrius' flank, while pulling on his right rein to bring the horse sharply about while propelling it forward, leaving Alys alone in the falling darkness. Which is not, of course, what happened at all. Alys had been Atrius' constant companion since he was a colt, he was unlikely to ride off into the darkness with a stranger, leaving her in obvious distress, now was he? He reared backwards onto his hind legs, putting the interloper at a sharp angle. Perhaps if he was not wounded, or was not holding a weapon in one hand, the man could have held the reins and kept control of the beast, but as it was he fell a good six feet backwards into the ground behind Atrius, hitting the ground with a crunch Alys seemed sure she could feel through the ground. He may have been wounded further in his fall, he may have not, but Alys certainly did not take the time to find out- she was running at him as soon as Atrius' front hooves left the ground, kicking the would-be thief square in the jaw almost the second his body hit the ground. She felt her boot connect to his face as a dull pain she knew would feel much worse later on, but right now she was streaming with adrenaline and paid the pain no mind. Without stopping to look behind her, she mounted Atrius in one smooth movement and spurred him on, putting two dozen feet between the pair and their assailant before wheeling about to look.

Borin was where he fell, but had staggered to his feet, clutching his head, stunned. His dagger was on the valley floor. He stumbled wearily to one side, disoriented, before locating her and Atrius at the edge of his vision. He turned towards them both, and held out his arms plaintively.

"Please, I can't go back to the Frontier! Please, take me to Tarkos, take me anywhere! Anywhere sunward. I'll pay, however much you ask."

Alys thought briefly of the frog and the scorpion, and a humourless smirk overtook her.

"I'm sorry- you had your chance." She launched Atrius into a gallop and directed him in a large arc around the wounded man. The man chased them but stumbled and fell after a few messy steps, falling onto his face, tears streaming down it as he lay in the cold dirt.

"Just wait for the Frontier to catch up with you, you'll be fine!" Alys yelled, any trace of guilt she might have felt leaving this man alone without a horse quelled by her anger at his needless assault, this pointless situation. She turned away from him as Atrius picked up speed and continued down the valley. Towards the darkness. Towards the Frontier. Towards the cold. Her pulse matching the racing beat of his hooves, Alys' face turned grim as she and her steed raced towards the inky ocean rising up before them.

Night was falling.