The Storyteller

Chapter 21: Fever

She was falling through the ice. Down down down she went; and she couldn't breathe, and she struggled and writhed about in the liquid prison. It was cold, it was cold! It was cold in the streets as she held out her hands in supplication; seeking mercy and a coin or two. Everyone had sympathy for a lame, little girl, but no one had money to spare. She was hungry, and it was cold; it was cold! She held her mother's hand as she hacked blood from her corrupted lungs. She made her comfortable, sang her songs, but she was scared so very scared. Her mother died in the winter night, and she cried, “Don't leave me!” And sat up holding her mother's hand all through the terrifying darkness, and it was cold, it was cold! And she couldn't sleep. The darkness was there, and she was alone! She screamed and screamed, hiding under the thin covers of her make-shift bed, but the monsters were there waiting for her. She told herself stories, hummed broken melodies, but they had to end eventually; “Don't leave me!”

She was running through the darkness, but it was everywhere and she couldn't breathe! She ran until someone caught her, a stranger. She stopped screaming. She tried to hide against him. She was safe, and it was warm, it was warm. Something dragged her away and she fought and screamed again. “Don't leave me!” And she was falling through the ice again. Down and down and down and it was cold, it was cold! “Don't leave me!”

Lynna writhed against the bed covers, kicking and screaming in delirium. She was warm to the touch and sweat was evident upon her face, but she shook and shivered as if frozen to the bone. She tossed and turned, screaming and ranting feverishly.

Katherine tried to restrain her, and had been for the better half of the night. She dabbed at the girl's heated face and tried to have her lie still. Her fever had been steadily worsening as the night grew longer to a point where Katherine wondered if Lynna would make it through the night.

Lynna's thrashing movements stilled for a moment and she lay panting against the bed, eyes closed in a nightmarish sleep. Soon she seemed to slip into a calmer rest. Katherine sighed in relief, at least the worst was over for now. She continued to sit by the girl's bedside, head in her hands. She would never forgive herself if Lynna died, she was the only friend she had and selfishly she wanted to keep her alive not only for her sake, but for her brother's. She had promised Guy she would keep her safe, she couldn't break that promise.

Lynna stirred again her sleep, muttering more fever induced nonsense. She stopped again and went into a deep and almost eerie silence. Katherine, in a panic, shook her until she groaned and tossed her head from side to side. Katherine sat back breathing hard. She couldn't die! Katherine exhaled shakily, calming herself. Lynna could not die!

***

Allan had never ridden harder in his life. He had taken a horse from the Meden Vale stables, knowing that time was of the essence and he could not offered to make the three day trek back to Nottingham on foot. Already he had ridden for one full day, he knew he would have to change horses at the nearest inn as the mare was already loosing speed from exhaustion. He arrived at the inn and not a moment too soon. He handed the tired horse off to a stable boy before making his way inside for a well deserved rest.

He awoke the next morning refreshed, but anxious to be under way again. After saddling his horse he rode out, driving the animal just as hard as before. By late evening he arrived at the fringes of Sherwood Forest. His destination close at hand he wanted to urge the horse on further, but his common sense told him to settle in and camp someplace in the woods until daylight.

He chose a secluded area, hidden from the rode and any possible passerby. He tied the horse up to a trunk of a nearby tree and he himself settled into a hollow between one particular tree's protruding roots.

Early morning found Allan still fast asleep beneath the tree. Snow was starting to fall and already Allan's sandy hair was becoming peppered with snowflakes. He was awoken by a slight kick to his leg. He jerked awake, hand reaching for his sword instinctively.