Book 5, Chapter 14: Crossed Beams
Dreading the conversation that was coming, I watched Morry shift the white-grey ashes about with a larger stick, then pile a bunch of kindling atop the still hot coals he found. As he blew on them, they turned red, red-white, with thin and light ash rising up in eddies, curling toward him slightly, he backed up and inhaled, blew again and again, ashes billowing up and out of the firepit, and the kindling caught, and Morry added more twigs and sticks as the fire got bigger and bigger.
He then took our morning offering, another rabbit, bunched up its fur on its back, stuck his knife through, set the knife down. Placing his hands on either side of the cut, he pulled the skin apart, moving it up to the head and down each of the legs. Holding the rabbit’s body, Morry twisted its head three times, then lifted off its neck. He picked up the knife, cut a little from the groin area on either side of the lower legs. He put the rabbit on its back, sliced under its rib cage carefully, pulled the skin down and its guts out in one go.
“You want its heart?”
“We don’t have to eat it raw, do we?”
“No, Princess. Not unless you want to.”
“Uh, cooked works for me. Cooked is my favorite way to eat . . . animals.”
“Cooked it is, then.”
“You can just, you know, give the heart to the foxes. And the liver and whatever. I’m happy with the muscle tissue. Legs, I mean legs.”
“Alright.”
Morry pulled out its liver and heart, a couple other pink and white organs, tossing those aside for the foxes, then stuck the furless body on a stick and placed that atop the previous night’s spit. “What are those Xes, the crossed sticks, called?”
“Cross beams I suppose. Or crossed sticks works, too.”
“Yeah. That’s simple, then.”
***
We ate in silence. One half of a rabbit each. The scent of roasted meat hung in the air, the fire crackled, but was dying down.
“I’ll get the horses ready.” The big man set his plate aside, got up and moved over to the sleeping rolls, started binding them up.
Shifting a leg bone to the edge of the plate, then brushing it into the fire, I tried to eat the remaining meat. And succeeded. Stared at the bones that were left after. The plate was a little greasy. Then, I pushed these remains into the fire, too.
It was the last thing I wanted to do. Yet, I had to be stern and braced myself, eyes downcast, stood, turned to face the big man, not quite looking past his chest, and said, “Thank you for finding me, General Morrentz. Please return to Breadamont and assist General Brundle with rebuilding the castle, village, and army.”
“I won’t be leaving you, Princess.”
I lifted my eyes to his and stared. It was the first time he’d told me ‘No.’ If you ignored that he made me open Etienne’s book. The first time he’d refused an order. “General, you will return to Brundle and help him-”
“I will not leave my princess while she is in danger.”
“But you have to!” Rushing over to him, I took hold of his arm, “Morry, for God’s sake, you aren’t safe with me! You have to go. I need you to go.”
“You don’t know where you’re going,” he lifted my chin and looked into my eyes, “and you have no idea the dangers that lie in this forest, these lands.”
“But, like, nothing can hurt me!”
“You don’t know that.”
“I just killed a nest of spiders and . . . nearly wiped out the Ketzillian army myself. I can burn as hot as the sun. You know anything that can hurt the sun?”
“You don’t know how to start a fire.”
“Yes I do!”
“Oh, you can. But you don’t know how to. How’d I get the flames going this morning?”
I rested my weight on one leg, “Well, you blew on the coals and, uh, added some twigs.”
“Where’d the coals come from.”
“Last night’s fire? Morry! Damnit, I could burn the entire forest down if I wanted to – this isn’t a problem for me.”
He turned toward the horse and pulled at the belt of the saddlebags, “Tonight. I’ll teach you how to make a fire. Properly. Without all that magic. You’ve got to know the basics to survive in the wild.”
“I . . . I’m . . .” I gestured around, “All these little animals are protecting me.”
“They brought me to you, to protect you.”
“They don’t understand how much danger you’re in.”
“None of your foxes and birds can teach you how to build a fire.”
“Ok, right. Sure. That doesn’t change the fact that-”
“Which way do we go? From here, which way to the temple?”
“North. You know the temple is north.”
“Yes, north. And then? Do your animals know the way?”
“I mean, like, I’ve got a map. I’ll follow the map.”
“How will you follow the map? Where is the temple in relation to Bechalle’s castle?”
“Uh . . .”
“Where is Bechalle’s castle?”
“I really should have renamed that castle.”
“You need a guide, Princess.”
“General Morrentz, first knight of my army, I am ordering you to return to Breadamont, damnit! Rejoin the army and help Brundle build it back up.”
“Last night you said yourself that you’re no longer the princess. I figure I can safely ignore your orders.”
“Hey! That’s not fair. That’s like so not fair.”
“It’s fair.”
“Fine. Look, I just want you to survive. If the mages come-”
“I’ve killed six, seven of them so far. And I’m wearing your necklace.” He pulled out the diamond-studded umbrella holding girl, then dropped it back under his shirt. “I’ll be fine. The Parasol Patrol will help you in the killing of mages.”
“Not if they drop fire on us.”
“Princess, you need a guide to get where you’re going. I’m going to take you there and that’s the end of it.”
“But-”
“Now go put your saddlebags on Cloud. We have some time to make up for and we’ll cover more ground on horseback.”
“You know, you just called me ‘princess.’ That means I’m still in charge.”
“Of course you are. Now, if you’ll just mount your horse, we’ll get there sooner.”
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