The Castle, Shaman

“I won’t pretend I’ll mourn her,” Tristan said, his voice low, “but I’m sorry for your loss, Seba'iqer.”

He resisted the urge to reach out and give Charlton’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and instead sat quietly as his guest’s gaze drifted thoughtfully out of the open window. When the door to the infirmary creaked open, Charlton gave no indication he heard it. Tristan sighed, turning his head towards the entranceway as Gawain slipped into the room. It wasn’t good news. His brother’s face was ill-suited to deception. With mud from the forest still caked on his boots, Gawain strode the length of room and stopped at Charlton’s bedside. Tristan leaned back as Gawain whispered in his ear. The king ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

“There’s no sign of Zed,” Tristan told Charlton gently, his mouth downturned. “What would you like us to do now?”

Charlton looked up. His bloodshot eyes widened and his jaw, which had been clenched for most of the story, slackened. He looked like he was on the verge of having a panic attack.

“No,” he said emphatically, his voice hoarse from speaking, “no, he has to be there. I left him there. If he - ”

The last two words tremored and his voice broke before he could continue, but the meaning was clear. If he isn’t there, where is he? Who has him?

“We’ll keep looking,” Tristan promised, overcoming his hesitation to rest a hand briefly on Charlton’s arm. “If he’s there, we’ll find him.”

He reached for the jug of water on Charlton’s bedside table, and filled an empty glass, handing it to the American with a reassuring smile.

“And if not,” Gawain interjected, “I’ll try and pick up a trail.”

Tristan nodded, his eyes darting to the clock. It had been too long already.

“I’m going to have to leave you, Seba'iqer,” he explained, apologetically, rising to his feet. “I can’t be...” the corner of his mouth twitched, “...can’t be seen to be too directly involved. I hope you understand.”

The brothers exchanged looks which ended with Gawain nodding his head stiffly.

“Guy will look after you from here. He’ll take you somewhere safe and see you’re taken care of,” Tristan said.

Charlton took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. The glance he threw Gawain was still a little wary, but it was infinitely more trusting than he’d looked when he’d first fallen on the castle’s doorstep.

Tristan excused himself for the final time and swept from the room, leaving Charlton and Gawain alone.

Charlton swung his legs over the side of the bed, placing a trembling hand on the bedpost and pushed himself to his feet. He seemed unsteady, but only for a second. He transferred his weight to his good foot and reached out with his opposite hand towards Gawain. Gawain took Charlton’s hand, and draped his arm around his shoulders. Wrapping an arm around the American’s back, he guided him to the door in silence.

The stairs were harder.

They made slow progress, stopping at regular intervals on the wider steps to give Charlton the chance to rest. Finally, they made it the top, and Gawain pushed the door open with his foot. He half-carried Charlton out onto the rooftop, each of them being buffeted by the wind. Ambrose, Gawain’s black thunderbird was waiting for them. He turned a fierce silver eye upon them and then lowered himself to allow them on board. Gawain boosted Charlton up onto the make-shift saddle and then climbed up behind him. Taking up the leather neck strap, he clicked his tongue, and Ambrose took flight, and the god and the prince disappeared into the night.