Robe

Chapter 2

At first, neither the katarn nor Dresden saw the boy lying at the foot of tree ahead of them. Instead, their attention was held by a large white shield lying on the thoroughly-wetted ground nearby, and, while the sodden earth was an unusual occurrence on its own, the shield was unlike anything they had ever seen. It was long and narrow, pointed like a spear at one end, and embossed with several strange black hieroglyphs, maybe the markings of spells. However, Dresden could sense no magic emanating from it (although his magic susceptibilities were underdeveloped, a fact he was ashamedly aware of).

"Mohon," he said, gripping the bow tightly, "perhaps this what the Custodian cautioned us of."

Mohon did not reply. There was a smell coming from the wet soil: a salty, egg-like odor similar to the sulfurous lands that he had once seen as a whelpling, when his kind marched their long exile to the Hepstraad.

"Over there," Dresden said, pointing. There was a rope extending from the bottom of the shield, and it was attached to a leg clad in black armor. The tree obscured the owner of the leg from view – the former owner, Dresden thought morosely.

Mohon followed Dresden's indication, and padded up to the leg to sniff it. The smell of sulfur emanating from this leg was immense, overwhelming, but there was no doubt that the creature it was attached to was a human. Young, too.

"Hurt," Mohon growled. "A boy. Hurt."

"I see that," Dresden said. He returned the nocked arrow to its quiver and slung the bow over his shoulder. "But hurt means alive, and alive means not dead. That's a start."

He walked around the other side of the tree to see who this leg was attached to, Mohon padding along. The leg belonged to an unconscious stranger, a young man – or rather, a boy who was nearly a man – lying sprawled across the roots of the great hardwood, with one arm across his chest. The boy's other arm lay up against the tree's trunk. His chest was moving regularly, a good sign, at least. The clothing he wore, however... neither Dresden nor Mohon had come across any human in the Hepstraad or elsewhere dressed as this stranger was. It was as though he had borne a new skin, one that was almost entirely black and smooth, except for seams that ran along the sides. If this was some sort of armor, what purpose it served was not clear, and Dresden couldn't imagine something so thin withstanding sword-strikes or arrows. Maybe it was resistant to magic? He would have to ask, if and when the opportunity arose.

He first de-summoned his bow and quiver into the spell-weave pouch tied to his belt, then knelt down and gently touched the stranger's outstretched arm. "Are you awake?" he asked. No response. He pushed gently against the arm.

The stranger's eyes flew open. "Wuxragherkejaglyd!"

Dresden looked at Mohon. The creature cocked one ear up, then shook his head.

"I have no idea what he said either," Dresden said. He looked back at the stranger. "Where are you hurt? Can you stand?"

The stranger reached up with one free hand. "Slezip. Paswerund," he said.

Dresden took the stranger's arm gently. "I don't know what you are saying, but you are moving without pain, which is good. Stay there. If you can't get up, then don't try." He put the arm back onto the stranger's chest. "My name is Dresden," he said, initiating, with neither an intimation nor inkling of significance, the beginning of a true fellowship. "I am from Hep Duatab, just down the hill here. Please, don't move."

The stranger's eyes registered no comprehension. He must be hurt internally, Dresden thought. Maybe his mind has been dislodged.

"Mohon, fetch the shield if you can," he said. "We'll place this fellow upon it, and take him back to the Hep. Unless the shield turns you into a bat or mouse first. My mother would be annoyed if that happened, I'm sure."

Mohon grunted. "Yes," he said, and woofed. Dresden wasn't certain whether the katarn was acknowledging him, or the comment about the Queen.

Either way, it was Mohon's response that brought the stranger's attention to the katarn. Like his kinsfolk, Mohon was a four-legged beast with a head that was almost two feet wide and a gaping mouth through which a long, green tongue lolled over razor-sharp teeth. His large, wide-spaced eyes were glowing a fierce yellow, a sign of maturity in his kind (the eyes of katarn whelplings were bright red).

The stranger's eyes rolled up in his head, and he passed out once more.

Mohon looked at Dresden. "Boy. Afraid," he said, turning to walk toward the shield.

"Afraid of what?" Dresden asked as he gently moved the boy's legs together, looking for signs of injury. "Us?"

"Not. Us," Mohon replied. "Me."

He picked up the less-pointy end of the shield with his overly large jaws, and, mindful of three strange blades jutting out on one side, dragged it over to Dresden. The shield had an overpowering sweet smell about it (some kind of berry or fruit, was Mohon's guess), as well as the salty and sulfurous undertones that he smelled on the boy. It was far too light for metal, and no wood was this sturdy.

Mohon dropped the end of the shield next to Dresden. "Not. Mouse," he said.

"Yes, I see that," Dresden said. He first put the boy's legs onto the shield, and then very carefully rolled the rest of boy's body onto it. The boy did not stir. Then Dresden put both of his hands about an inch above the boy's chest, and closed his eyes. A few moments passed.

"I don't think his body is injured," he continued, opening his eyes and standing up. "He has no obvious wounds, isn't that interesting? Still, I had better have the Custodian examine him."

"Yes," Mohon woofed. "Custodian."

Dresden nodded. "Wherever this fellow is from, he is not of the Hepstraad." He stood up. "Let's see if I've still got it in me," he said, and raised one arm up, palm facing down over the boy and his shield. "Height of one hand, for a time, be still to me, grant me this."

The shield and the boy lifted off the ground and floated there, unmoving.

"Well. Done," Mohon grunted.

"Why, thank you," Dresden said. "I'm just happy the spells on it didn't try to fight back. I'd be the mouse, and you'd have to get help."

Mohon woofed. It was almost a chuckle.

Dresden scratched the katarn behind one ear, then they started walking down the hill toward the town below. The floating shield with its unconscious passenger followed immediately behind.