Owin #15 — The darkened kitchen

Owin led Gwen around the outside of the large line of estates. He moved quickly and Gwen had to jog to keep up. He did not use the primary street that passed in front of Lord Darro’s estate, but when he turned down a lane that led back toward the estate, Gwen tugged on his shirt, slowing him to a stop.

“Aren’t we going home?” she asked as she panted slightly from the running.

“I need my weapons and I left your silver hidden down this alley,” he replied.

“But they might have people out looking for us.”

Owin nodded his head, having kept a close awareness for any groups of people who had the appearance of soldiers since they left the back of the estate. He started moving again, pulling Gwen up to jog beside him. “They know where your mother lives. When they held me in a room for a while, one of the men came back and reported having been to your house. I really don’t know what we’ll find there.”

Even in the limited light provided by the scattering of lamps, he could see Gwen’s wide eyes. “My house? Mother will…” she shook her head. “She’ll kill me.”

Owin did not want to voice the fears that continued to nag at him. Please let Elsin be okay. I must have misread that man’s lips.

After a few more blocks, Owin came to a stop next to the building where he had hidden his weapons and Gwen’s money. He could see guards moving along the main street, but they had not noticed him in the dark alley.

He felt some tension leave his arms as his hand contacted the scabbard of his sword. Fishing around, he also grabbed the dagger and coin pouch. Not waiting to strap the weapons on, he moved carefully backwards and when he could no longer see the guards, he turned and led Gwen back through the city along the fastest route he knew to Elsin’s flat.

Pausing twice to avoid the notice of city guards, he still made good time, taxing not only his body, but through the sounds of Gwen’s increasingly labored breathing, nearing her limit. We need to work more on her conditioning, he thought, keeping his mind focused on the immediate problems instead of what he might find once they made the last turn onto Harington Lane.

Once they reached the narrow lane that Elsin lived on, Owin stopped and crept to the corner. The flats in this section of the town were nicer than others as oil lamps provided light every dozen houses or so. Elsin’s flat sat at a two-thirds point between lamps. Enough light found its way to her door that he could tell there were no men standing at the door, but it would be possible for watchers to be positioned further down the lane.

“Do you think they would be waiting for us?” Gwen asked from behind him.

“Depending on how fast they realize we are off the grounds, we could have visitors at any moment. We have to get your mother and grandmother out and someplace safe.”

He could sense Gwen twisting her skirt with her hands, but he had no words to make her feel any better. He could not wait any longer; every moment wasted allowed any pursuit that much more time to catch them.

Staying low, he broke from cover and ran toward the Elsin’s door. Gwen followed more slowly in his wake. Moving up the steps, he turned the latch and swung the door open. The interior was dark. “Elsin,” he whispered despite every instinct telling him to remain silent.

Hearing no response, he moved inside, wishing his eyes would adjust to the changing light faster than they did. Knowing the layout, he moved easily through the rooms, searching for dark masses that would be out-of-place. In the kitchen, he saw what appeared to be a body on the floor. NO! Don’t let it be!

Moving across the room, he bumped bowls and utensils scattered about the floor. Kneeling, to check the person on the floor, he heard Gwen gasp from behind him.

“Is she okay?” From her voice, tears obviously streaming down her face.

Owin identified the person on the floor as Elsin by the feel of her skirt and the roughness of her hands. Using the back of his hand, he checked her face to see if any breath came from her lips or mouth.

“Please! Please, Onwa, let her be okay!” Gwen pleaded with the god of matrons and children.

Owin held his own breath as he waited. The deeds he committed in the name of the Duke kept him from asking any of the gods for help. A moment later, he felt his arms tremble from relief. “She breathes!”

Sitting back, he looked around, but the darkness was too complete. “Gwen, get the lamp and light it, but trim the wick very low. Stay away from any windows. I hate bringing light here, but we don’t have a choice.”

He heard Gwen move out of the kitchen, her breathing betraying her relief. Several moments later, she returned carrying the lamp Gavin had given Elsin as a present two months before he died. The intricately crafted copper case protected panes of actual glass. Elsin always refused to sell it, no matter how low of funds she became. Owin did not always agree, but he understood and did his best to make sure she never had to. And now it may not matter, he thought, fearing Elsin might never wake.

He glanced at Elsin in the increased light. She was on her left side; her right forearm obviously broken and swollen. A large knot rose from her right temple with a slight trace of blood having leaked from the initial wound.

Gwen gasped and started to move closer. “Wait,” Owin said, drawing her eyes to him. “Light the candle behind you and then take the lamp and check on your grandmother. Gather as many valuables as you can carry, the daggers I gave you, and perhaps some darker clothes and come back down here. We don’t have time to waste. I’ll tend to your mother.”

After a moment, Gwen nodded her head, grabbed the tallow candle, lit it from the lamp, and handed the candle to Owin. He put it on the floor as she silently headed to the stairs leading to the second floor.

“Elsin,” Owin said several times, trying to rouse her. That failing, he quickly grabbed a worn towel and several wooden spoons. Being as gentle as possible, he felt Elsin’s forearm to determine where it was broken. Finding the spot, he pulled and twisted, aligning the bones as best he could. “Damn,” he swore. Please, please, please be all right, he pleaded, having seen no response from Elsin at his treatment.

Grabbing the towel, he wrapped it once around her arm and then slid in the spoons to offer support as he continued to wind the towel. When he ran out of cloth, he tore the frayed ends and tied them together.

Behind him, he head Gwen’s footsteps. The tentative nature of their fall turned his attention. He saw the tears streaming down her pale face.

“Grandma’s dead.” She closed her eyes, but the tears did not stop. “There was so much blood. Her…her stomach spilled across the floor.”

Owin stood up, drawing open Gwen’s eyes. “There’s nothing you can do. We have to get out of here or we’ll end up the same way.”

She nodded her head, lifting the old blanket she had pulled tight around a large bundle. “We don’t have many valuables, but got what I could.” She closed her eyes again. “This is all my fault.”

Owin pulled her close and gave her a quick hug. “We’ll get you out of here, but I need help with your mother.” He quickly went to Elsin and rolled her onto her back, placing her right arm away from him. “I’ll need you to pull up her right arm and stick it on her chest.” Bending down, he lifted the woman who had been his friend’s wife. She was not heavy, but he knew her weight would tax his arms and back quickly. Turning to face Gwen, she secured her mother’s arm so it did not hang down.

He nodded his head to Gwen, indicating they should head toward the front of the house. As he blew out the candle, he considered several places they could go, but rejected them all. After a deep breath, he made his decision and hoped they could get away from the flat before anyone came to kill them.

Continue to next episode.