III

Wren watched the countryside roll away from out the back of the wagon. Two Silverblood Knights rode a short distance away on either side of the road, their white armor glinting in the sun. He was resting on his cot, with Lira lying unmoving next to him on her own cot. He hissed through clenched teeth as the wagon hit a bump, jostling him from side to side.

It was midday, and they had set out at dawn, the dozen Silverblood knights waking him before sunrise to carry him out of the tent. It had been a day and a half since the attack. His grief and the pain from the memories was still strong, but Wren had been able to keep his mind preoccupied. His injuries however, were a constant reminder. Sir Bailin, the knight who spoke to him earlier and also the parties healer, had given him a rundown of the damage. A broken collar bone, some cracked ribs, a good whack on his head, and many bruises. When Wren asked about healing magic, Bailin only chuckled. Apparently it is extremely painful, but besides that, it is quite exhausting for the healer. Bailins priority was to his fellow knights, and since Wrens injuries were not grievous, he would have to wait until they arrive at the castle.

At that moment, Sir Bailin appeared from around the side of the wagon, eye level with Wren, on the back of his horse.

“It is about time for another dose lad.” The knight skillfully climbed from the back of his horse, into his wagon. His mount plodded along behind as if nothing happened.

From a satchel, Bailin withdrew a bottle of tonic and poured Wren a measure, handing him the wooden cup. Wren crinkled his nose. The strong smell reminded him of the compost pit they had near the farmhouse. It tasted even worse, with Wrens stomach actually rejecting the liquid the first time he had it. Bailin assured him it would help his body fight off infection, which is very important if any marrow had escaped his fractured bones.

After grimacing from the awful concoction and handing the cup back, he cleared his throat.

“How much longer until we reach the city gates?”

Bailin glanced out the back of the wagon as he secured the tonic.

“we should arrive by nightfall, though we wonet be going through the city gates. We have a side gate that leads directly into the compound.”

The knight placed his hand on Wrens forehead, checking his temperature. Then he rotated around and did the same to Lira. Wren met his eyes questioningly.

“Still she slumbers, but she seems healthy otherwise. The shock of what happened is likely keeping her asleep, but the attendants at the infirmary should be able to wake her.” He told Wren, his voice sounding reassuring.

Bailin was the only knight of the group to show Wren any warmth, not that the others were unkind, they just seemed to not have any interest in the boy.

“Will I see you again? Once we’re in the compound?” While Wren didn't necessarily like the knight, he craved some kind of familiarity.

“Not likely.” Was the stoic reply.

Wrens heart dropped slightly.

“My duties are not with the sick or wounded orphans. You will stay in the infirmary as long as the attendants see fit, and once you are placed in the orphanage, you will be assigned tasks, and have you’re own schedule. You may see us around, but that would be it.”

Bailin rose from this seat next to Wren and climbed from the back of the wagon, resuming his place on his horse again.

“That should be the last of the tonic you need. I left some rations for you there.” He indicated to a burlap sack on the bench, then steered his mount away again, out of sight.

Wren sat up slowly and pulled the sack to his lap. The contents pleased him about as much as the medicine did. Inside was salted jerky, dried fruit, and hardtack. He had eaten like this before, but it brought him little joy.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

At least I have that to look forward to. The food in the infirmary and orphanage must be better than this, right?

The sun slowly drifted across the sky. Wren's view from out the back of the wagon shifted from farmland, to woods speckled with color as the trees began feeling the onset of autumn, to plains. More and more homesteads began popping up, indicating their approach to Veilstone, the largest city in the province. Wren had been here many times in the past with his father, bringing their goods to market. The thought of those pleasant times squeezed at his heart. This trip would be much different.

The wagon pulled off the main road, which led straight to the city gates, where Wren and his father always entered. Instead they bumped along a lesser road that wandered parallel to the city walls. The less-maintained path was hell on Wren's injuries. Every jolt made his ribs flare in sharp protest, and soon he was begging for the trip to end.

By the time the sun had dipped below the distant hills, the convoy had reached the side gate. Wren lay on his cot, delirious from the painful ride, unable to focus on what was happening around him. He heard the shout of guards from atop the walls, a reply from one of the Silverblood knights, then the clatter of a raising portcullis. Once again, the wagon jerked forward, causing a groan to escape from Wren. He teetered on the edge of consciousness. Eventually, the wagon stopped. Motion around the wagon caught his attention enough for him to raise his head. Through the darkness that had settled, he saw men carrying torches. Some led horses away, others were carrying gear and equipment. The gate on the back of the wagon dropped, and Sir Bailin stood with four other knights, the torchlight making their white armor appear a light orange.

"Careful with the boy," instructed Bailin. "The lass is unconscious, but his injuries make him fragile."

Resentment flared inside Wren as two of the knights clambered up to his side. They lifted his cot, gently lowering it to the other two knights outside the wagon. Wren tried to swivel his head around to keep an eye on his sister, but there was too much movement, too many people walking around.

"Lira..." he croaked.

One of the knights looked down at Wren, his steely gaze softening slightly.

"Don't fret, you'll see her inside," he assured him.

Wren was carried across the courtyard, where knights and squires scurried about. The pungent smell of horses and manure filled his nostrils. They came to a long squat building, the same off-yellow color as the city walls. Double doors parted to accept them in, and in moments, women in white dresses with aprons surrounded Wren. The cacophony of voices nearly overwhelmed him, his mind already suffering after the painful expedition. By the time he was moved from the cot to an actual bed, he was too dazed to appreciate it.

Through the haze, he was vaguely aware of a woman holding a cup to his lips. He drank, then coughed, sputtering at the taste of the same vile liquid Bailin had given him before. A stern voice scolded him, and he cracked his eyes open to see an older nurse looking down at him.

Great first impression, he thought to himself.

He managed to down the concoction this time, and immediately noticed something different. A warming sensation spread from his chest. As it moved down his arms and legs, the soreness from the trip faded. Soon even the sharp pain of his injuries was reduced to a hollow ache. Before Wren could begin to even contemplate the first feeling of actual enjoyment in two days, the feeling reached his head. The room swam before his eyes, and within moments, he was in a state of euphoric slumber.