Free Jadde - The Fragile Sanctuary by Clive Ousley

his
palms.
    Malkrin woke again as the sun passed midday
height. Weakly he rose onto an elbow and collapsed groaning. He had no strength
to sit, let alone continue his journey so forced down an oatcake and the remnants
of the bread. There was no water left in the container so he crawled to the
back of the cave to look for more along the damp rear wall. Not even a dribble
welcomed him so he crawled around searching. In the furthest recess he found
some saturated moss on a wet rock and sucked as much as he could, then chewed
the moss. Lying against the moist rock, the gloomy surroundings seemed to
obscure with mist. Later he succumbed to feverish dreams of Cabryce and friends
searching and searching and finding only his bleached bones.
    It was dark again and he crawled back to
the fire. A few embers remained and he added the last of the kindling, summoned
weak breaths and blew the fire back to life. He groped for dead brush and
sticks and panting like a victim of lung disease pulled the lighter lengths
slowly onto the fire. The blaze warmed him but the effort sent him back into febrile
dreams.
    Consciousness returned and the bright moon
swam in an arc before his eyes. Cold numbed his feet then his legs. A
disembodied hand added more sticks to the dying embers. He realised in a
distant way it was his own and sunk back into an exhausting sleep.
    Later he awoke suddenly, greeted by the
clatter of shale from slopes outside the cave.
    The cat was returning to finish him.
    He didn’t care, and slipped into a wonderful
dream of Cabryce spoon-feeding him wine on their luxurious bed.
     
    Light seemed a long way off. From the
darkest recess of the cave he saw a crumpled body below. His mind retreated
further into a dark tunnel leaving the wrecked body beside the glowing fire.
    He woke, again with the sound of slipping
shale, closer now. It seemed to echo then fade.
    The light faded to a pin-prick and he
retreated further into the tunnel. Instinctively he knew he had to keep the
light focused on the crumpled form.
    The light diminished to the merest speck
and frozen blackness swamped him.
    Then slowly the light spread and changed to
cloudy daylight and he felt the fern bed return under him. He clawed a hand toward
the glare as Cabryce spooned more wine into his mouth.
    It was a good dream. He felt some warmth
return.
    He spluttered; feeling liquid dribble from
his mouth. A face that wasn’t Cabryce’s peered down at him. He blinked and
screwed his eyes against the background glare. A young girl was sitting bent
over him. Her long orange-brown hair curled down near to his face forming
curtains that framing her delicate concern. It reminded him of a child he knew,
one of the ordinary folk. With a bone spoon she fed him more refreshing liquid.
Another face swam into view. He definitely recognised that face, he rose onto
his elbows with a painful groan. Halle Fisheye must have sought him, intent on
revenge – he had limped badly ever since Malkrin had allowed the boar to skewer
him.
    ‘Halle?’ he inquired.
    ‘Take it easy Sire, you have to recover
strength. We only just found you in time.’
    ‘Only just?’ he repeated stupidly trying to
focus on what Halle was saying.
    ‘Only just – before you died; stupid.’ The
girl spoke without malice. Malkrin focused on her, seeing a sunny expression of
concern and relief.
    Somehow he was amongst friends.
    He noticed a pile of rags soaked in
congealed blood. He passed a hand behind his back, feeling healed scars where
weeping wounds should have been.
    ‘How?’ He felt really confused; Jadde
should be greeting him now.
    ‘My daughter, she has a . . . certain gift.’
    Malkrin arched his eyebrows and rose
unsteadily to a sitting position. His mind-fog cleared. ‘She has a highsense
and has healed me?’
    The tinkling young voice washed over him.
‘You catch on quickly; Sire must be improving.’
    ‘How long was I ill for?’
     ‘We found you at high sun yesterday. It is
now an