“Tad, gather some wood.” While he moved slowly, the boy managed to have an armful ready when Gareth managed to get the tinder lighted. Then another. Gareth allowed the fire to burn while he helped with the firewood. Gathering it before dark was much easier than after.
Yet, he resented the daylight they wasted. The King would strike a deal with the Brotherhood sooner or later. Being beyond their control would make travel much easier. When he had gathered enough wood, he sat and watched the fire, lost in the flickering flames. Tad sat beside him and dozed, his head resting on Gareth’s lap. Then he fell asleep, and Gareth covered him with his favorite blanket brought with him from Bitters Island.
The ship that would carry his family to safety should have arrived at the island today, tomorrow at the latest. He imagined the fear and excitement. The grandchildren would look forward to the voyage, their first. Those older would dread leaving the peaceful lives they had all enjoyed for almost thirty years.
He wished he could be with them. Especially, Sara. He was gone only a few days and already he missed her to a degree most couldn’t understand. Her easy manner and soft talks reduced complicated subjects to easily understood segments. He wished for her council now.
She didn’t fight against the world and the happenings, she accepted and made the best of each situation. He had tried to learn from her over the years, and he supposed he had learned a little, but not to the extent needed. His first reaction was to solve a problem; not live with it the best way he knew how.
He reached out with his mind and touched Blackie for assurance. All was as well as it could be. The squelch maintained over Tad was intact. The one over the boy was harder since he didn’t know the mind, but the medication controlled most of it. The thinking of so many different things at the same time taxed him. As long as he didn’t add another to the list, he should be fine.
But he reached out and listened to those minds closest to him. He heard Ann’s of course, worried and concerned about how to heal the boy she washed. He quickly moved on, trying to ignore minds on the coast and behind them. He rejected many he determined to either side, although he had no method of determining where the person was except for listening for clues. Farmers were concerned with their animals, their feed or safety. Tradesmen concerned themselves with their products, how to make more or improve their lots.
Soldiers minds were different and immediately recognizable. They were thinking of boredom, poor food, thick women, gambling, and fear. Always fear. Soldiers, oddly enough, do not enjoy fighting in battles where too many are killed or maimed. They would all fight if required, but most secretly wished to never face another army.
Gareth used his mind to seek out those of the soldiers. He determined some were at the gates of Freeport and dismissed them. He found others on the road they had traveled, setting up new camps and additional blockades. He found others that were positioned ahead, and those drew his attention, now. He guessed at their locations and made a mental map of how to circle around them.
Sara said, kneeling at his side with the boy in her arms, “I did what I could.”
The boy looked six, but Gareth believed him to be at least ten. He touched the boy’s mind and found him in a stupor, but somewhat alert and very scared. The cold water of the river had been a shock as if he hadn’t been in cold water before, which may have been true. From the condition of his skin and the filth crusted on it, if he had ever been in water it had been long ago.
But the fear in his mind was nothing new. It had existed years. It expected to be punished. It waited for it, knowing it was coming and that there was nothing to stop it.
Digging deeper, Gareth found a mind stunted and scared, wanting affection so intensely that it accepted pain as a substitute. If nothing else, the giver of the pain was also giving him attention—something the small mind craved.
But it was what he didn’t find that concerned Gareth. He located no remorse, no shame or regret. No empathy for others, people or animals. No, that was not correct. It was there but buried. Hidden. Withheld from the insane, evil mind.
Gareth mentally pulled back and said, “He looks much better.”
The hair that had hung in greasy coils had been cut to the length of a finger, all around the head. The skin of his face and neck glowed pink, the lesions each had a dab of medicine. Ann had scrubbed the green off his teeth. Tad’s clothing almost fit. To a stranger, he appeared a normal little boy of six or seven, the same age as Tad.
“I cannot see where he has been physically abused or beaten, just neglected,” Ann said.
“Cleaning him up didn’t change who he is.”
“Of course not. He’s a child who needs adults to teach him. I have no children of my own . . .”
“Don’t even think that, Ann. This is not a child to make your own. This is a dangerous creature that we should have destroyed at the beginning while we had the chance.”
“How can you say that?”
“I just examined his mind.” Gareth tossed more wood on the fire and tried to think of his next words before allowing them to pass his lips. “He has the power to kill with his mind-touch. Worse, he has already helped do it.”
Ann had an arm wrapped around his shoulders protectively. “Just a boy. I can teach him.”
Shaking his head, Gareth said, “If he wants a bowl of pudding to eat and you refuse he may take control of your mind and slay you for such a minor disagreement. Or he may punish you with pain more intense than a whipping from the King’s persecutor in the deepest dungeon. May is not the word I should have used. I should have said will because he will do it. That’s what he’s been taught to do if another does not give him what he wishes.”
“Everyone deserves a chance,” Ann cooed, snuggling the boy closer.
“You say that because you’re a good person. But your motherly feelings are dangerous. With your permission, can I enter his mind and relay to you what is there into your mind?”
She turned to him, a concerned expression taking over. “Will it hurt?”
“In a sense. His mind is numbed from the medication you gave him, but a touch of what is inside his head is necessary for you to understand what we are dealing with or it may become dangerous. The Sisterhood is comprised of women who are empathetic and trusting. That is both a blessing and a curse.”
“You’re rambling, Gareth.”
“I know. But you, not understanding what we are dealing with could cause my death, or the death of my grandson, as well as your own. You need to know what this boy is. You must know.”
“Very well, but I warn you that I see a helpless child and don’t believe you will change my opinion.”
Gareth touched the mind of the boy, found memories of a farmer he had encountered that offered a roof and meals in return for help with his harvest three days earlier. Later that same day the boy left the farmer lying dead on the road. The house and barn burned behind him, the animals locked behind the doors of the barn, crying out in terror and pain. The boy giggled as he walked and ate, the voice of the evil one pushing him on.
As Gareth uncovered each memory he transmitted it to Ann. Turning, Gareth looked at her sitting with the boy in her lap. Gareth had purposefully edited the memories to exclude most of the horror and gory details, but a single glance at her expression and he knew that even less would have been better.
She suddenly pushed the boy away, as if afraid to touch him. His limp body rolled across the ground with the violence of her shove. She stood up and backed two steps, her frightened eyes locked on the small form lying on the grass sleeping.
Her hands went to her face, and she sobbed as she slumped back to the ground. She averted her eyes and refused to turn to the boy. Gareth wondered if he had done the right thing, but also knew it had been necessary. Her potential attachment had to be prevented before there were feelings for him. She had to understand, but Gareth felt no better.