Iamerge followed Gospels along the shoulder of the roadway as Ui Birlinn’s column slowly passed.  As tired as Rhaury and his men were in front, clearly the men in the rear were more so.  These were likely the men who had come upon the monsters who were ravaging the other caravan and had driven them off.  Most bore worse than the haggard look of exhaustion, many wore bandages and other signs of wounding.

When the column was passed Iamerge caught up to Gospels and began to walk beside him.  Gospels was whispering to himself, he seemed unaware of Iamerge or at least preoccupied in his own thoughts.  With the column passed Iamerge began to look to their safety.  The slope was steep and there wasn’t much undergrowth to hide attackers.  Iamerge could see the ruins of the unfortunate caravan a little farther ahead.  He breathed a sigh of relief, It looks like we will be among friendlies long before any enemy could come on us, he thought.

“Do you know much of healing Iamerge?” Gospels surprised him, so used had he become to Gospels murmurings as they walked.

“I know a bit, enough to bind my own wounds and a broken bone now and then,” Iamerge glanced over at Gospels, “Do you think we will need the little skill I have?”

“That and God’s help will avail us much,” said Gospels. “I fear that there will be much need of both.”

“Ask your God for strength, I do believe you are right,” as they approached the wreckage they were hailed by Ui Birlinn’s men who had been left as guards and to see, as well as they could, to the wounded that yet lived.  Before they reached them, they saw many who were beyond help.  The men were badly torn and wretchedly laid out in their death throes.

“Be sure I have been.” said Gospels.

As night fell, Gospels had the guardsmen build up a large bon fire.  Others were detailed to move the wounded into the light and warmth of it.  Gospels sent men to forage for cloth to be used as bandages and anything else that might be of use. 

Iamerge employed his medical knowledge, meager as it was, at Gospel’s direction.  The monk seemed to have a good idea of who might be saved and who, among the wounded, were more in need of comfort, this Gospels gave unstinting.  They battled in this way as the Wanderer rushed across the sky and set at the head of the valley, but it had not returned when Hebrews and ten more brothers came into the camp bringing all things needful and many helping hands more adept at the healing arts than were Iamerge’s.

When Iamerge would have withdrawn, exhausted, Gospels called him again.  “Iamerge, Conal needs an ear, and company.  Will you sit with him?”

“Surely Gospels,” said Iamerge and found himself sitting with a body with no legs and many bandages.

“Thanks brother,” said what was left of the man, “that Gospels, he told me about his Lord, and about. . .” the man was weeping and as Iamerge knelt, coming near, a hand came from the mass of bandages and clung to him, “. . . he told me about forgiveness in his Jesus.  Can it be true?”

Iamerge gaped, fumbling for what he might say to comfort the man, “I’ve never heard Gospels tell anything but the truth.”

“That’s what I thought,” said the better part of a man. Iamerge patted the mans hand and sat silently.  The man sobbed, “I’ve made a mess of things, I prayed with him, that Gospels, but he can’t know what I done– so I was just askin’.”

“If Gospels said it, you can be sure. . .”

“All the wrong I done’s paid for, forgiven because of this Jesus . . . ” The man wept and Iamerge sat silently beside, “. . . that I’ll see him when I die.”

The man relaxed and let out a sigh. Iamerge thought he’d passed and began to draw away his hand.  “Thanks brother,” the man said weakly, “I’m okay, ain’t that somethin’?”

“I just thought you’d fallen asleep. . .” Iamerge said, embarassed.

“Nah, soon. What was yer name, friend?”

“Iamerge”

“That’s right! Gospels called you that.  Thanks Iamerge.  I’m Conal.” The man pulled his hand back against his body, “Go ‘head, there’s others that can use you.”

Conal closed his eyes.  Iamerge rose and fled into the night.

I was back in the dark hole of the sidhe.  It was cool, but in the pit of my stomach there was colder ice.  I was afraid for my people and afraid for myself.  If they were truly gone I, who was familiar with being alone from time to time, was not just alone I was lost.

I scrambled to my feet.  There was light from the hole I had collapsed in the false roof of the sidhe.  I don’t know why I’d been so stupid.  There was dry wood aplenty in the wreckage.  I had steel and flint, I had my tinderbox.  It was the work of a few moments and I had a fire started.  I reserved a manageable branch for a torch.  Moments later I could again clearly see the inside of the sidhe.  There were still metal items that had caught the light, tarnish dulled, they had suffered from inattention.

With torch in hand I walked to the entrance of the tunnel that Jella called the souterrain.  I found the loose otter stone and its cache of lamp and oil.  My first instinct was to go as quickly as possible to find my people. 

On a moments reflection I remembered my seeing.  My visions were true.  My visions of Jella, the lamp and oil, this pendant with flint and steel that I held was proof enough.  I had seen our camp overrun, I couldn’t go there.  It was too late to warn, my duty and my hope was to find.  So I put the lamp in my pack, and I put the pendant around my neck.  I walked back into the great hall of the sidhe to see if there was something, anything, that would help us. . .”

“Did you find your people Grand-father?”  asked the youngest.

The elder boys elbowed the youngest. “He’s here isn’t he?”

“I did find our people.  Most of them.  Some of the other lads who had gone out before didn’t come back, but warning arrived before I knew of the danger.  We had to run and sneak and we didn’t have deer or horses to ride either.  We got food from the secret place which supplied us for our flight south, but our warring with the evil hordes cost us plenty.”

There was a yawn, and another.  “Well, that’s pretty much what I know about the deer-riders.  Maybe you three aught to go find your beds.”

The boys looked at each other and didn’t move as fast as they usually did he thought.  “Of course you can help yourself to what’s left of dinner.  Can’t have good bread go to waste.”

The boys dug in and murmured thanks as they parcelled out the last of supper.  Mouths still full, the boys exited the tent.  They were mounted in a flash, almost before the old man could make it out of his tent.

The eldest turned back before he and the others rode off, “Thank you Grand-father.” His fellows mumbled their thanks around their last mouthfuls.

“Off with you then my lads.  You’re likely to scare the Deer Riders off if you’re around making noise and chewing so loudly.”

“Right, scare off the deer-riders, “Laughing, they waved and pelted off toward the main camp leaving the old man alone with his thoughts. 

He closed his eyes.  Perhaps from long practice or because he was older now and the veil between life and death was thinner for him now, but he could see so much easier now.  As forgetful as he was becoming he could imagine walking away from his body and just never coming back.  Perhaps that was what dying was.  The man felt sure he would know someday soon.

But tonight he flew above the world.  He saw from above the herd deer’s approach.  He saw the stream of tawny bodies and clattering horn.  They were coming.  The moon was often his guide, somethings do not change.  Now he felt the rush of the herd through his feet.  His old horse nickered.  He breathed deep. Was that the deer he smelled?

He walked briskly to the spot he had chosen.  On a little knoll above his camp there was a tree with roots sunk into the rocky hill top.  He had almost left himself short.  He turned just in time to see the first of the herd deer burst over the nearby rise.  His hand found purchase on the tree for stability and comfort.  He could hear the coming of the deer now as well as feel it. 

The herd cleared the rise before him on a broad front and it split to pass his place by the tree.  The beasts were running blind for the most part now.  But the tree was a big enough obstruction. 

He had old eyes in an old body, but eyes aren’t the only way to see, he knew.  And so he saw.  On the back of a deer, a bit larger than most, was a person he knew. He smiled, it was good to see old friends, a bit sad to remember others. “Heyaah!  Oren,” He yelled.

“Heyaah Dream-Walker,”  The deer-rider called and waved as he thundered past among the tawny deer.