Free Beasts of the Seventh Crusade (The Crusades Book 4) by Mark Butler

of Raul. They were on the ground, and he was on a bed, leading him to believe they were not drugged or unconscious, as surely he had been, but merely sleeping, waiting for him to wake.
    Artois snored loudly and rolled over, licking his lips and not opening his eyes. Francois yawned but didn't open his eyes, either. Raul waited for his vision to adjust to the dwelling, and he soon recognized the simple layout of the sorcier's cabin. The man himself was not there, it seemed. Raul stood up and went to the flap that led outside, and a thin beam of light entered the cabin. It was daytime, then.
    "Father?" Raul turned, seeing Francois rise to unsteady feet.
    "Yes?"
    "What happened?"
    "I was hoping you could tell me that. Rouse Artois," Raul said. Francois nodded and nudged the big man with his foot. Artois rolled over and Francois nudged him harder, in the ribs, and Artois' eyes blinked open.
    "What?" he groaned.
    "Wake up," Raul said. "How did we get here?"
    "Ah, I believe a bit of explanation is in order," the sorcier materialized behind Raul, standing near the entrance of the cottage. "Let's talk outside, where the air is fresh."
    They sat down around a campfire. It was high afternoon, and the breeze was warm. Like the warm breath of the dragon, ready to snatch away life, Francois thought. Food was brought to the four men by some women, because of the sorcier's apparent stature in the village, and Artois let his gaze linger on the women's figures that shifted beneath their threadbare tunics. It had been too long since he had a female companion.
    "Now, my friends, what can you remember?" the sorcier asked.
    "I remember meeting you on the path, after we expelled the dragon from the cave . . ." Francois began.
    "And then we followed you," Artois said.
    "That's the last thing I remember," Raul finished.
    "You remember your dream, surely?" the sorcier asked.
    "Yes, but I do not know how I came to be unconscious in your cottage. And I do not know what my dream meant. I saw Artois, but the face of the other man—"
    "Will be revealed to you when the time is right."
    "When will that be?"
    "I don't know," the sorcier said. "I only showed you the future that is apparent to the gods. There are things they don't know—yes, even the gods."
    "Then our business here is complete," Raul replied, standing up. His sons stood with him and they made their way back to the clearing beneath the olive trees, where their packs and provisions were. They were untouched, and there were foodstuffs filled with meat, dried fruit and medicinal herbs in addition to their original supplies.
    "Where did this come from?" Francois said.
    "Just a thank you, for getting rid of the dragon," the little man, their original guide to the hill village, said from behind them. Francois spun around, stunned that the little man could creep up on them so quietly.
    "You all seem to have the rare ability to sneak up on people without them noticing," Raul said.
    "This is our village, you all are just guests, and now the time has come for you to leave. But you will always be welcome here, I promise that," the little man said.
    "Thank you."
    Without further ado, the Coquets left the hill village. Their side quest into this strange place, unattached to the world, had been painful and educational. There were great, mysterious beasts that still roamed the Earth, at the edges of civilization, ready to humble the race of men whenever the opportunity arose. The Coquets had met a tiny man, a wizard, and a dragon.
    They had lost their dogs and, for Raul, gained the knowledge of the future. It was not a clear understanding that he retained, such as the price of a cow, but a mystical connection to a higher energy source, one that he prayed would follow them as they traveled south, to the war-torn region of Toulouse. With a final glance at the hill village, the Coquets turned and walked away quickly, always wary of the forest.
     

     

Chapter Seven
    THE TRIO TRAVELED BY NIGHT. During the day,