The Gantlet

by Linda L. Dunlap

  “I will,” Elida replied . “Be back soon.”

  Within a short time, the little girl returned with the feathers and held them out for inspection.

  “Just what I needed,” her friend said. “Thank you. You did just what I asked. I’m sorry if we’ve been treating you like a baby. We’ll do better.”

  The next day, as they packed their gear to leave, Breanna called Elida from her packing and suggested she go with her to test the arrows.

  “I did what you suggested, Elida. Thanks again for bringing the feathers. Now let’s see if it made a difference, or if I am just a terrible archer.”

  The target she chose was a willow tree growing near the water’s edge. It had long, sweeping branches hanging into the water, but on the land side, some of the limbs grew straight away from the body of the tree. It was one of those branches she chose to shoot. Standing fifty feet from the tree limb, Breanna positioned herself, and then removed one of the newly fletched arrows from her quiver and nocked it, aligning the fletch with the target. She pulled the bow string back and loosed the arrow, hitting the outside of her target.

  “Elida, it worked. You were right. I will always trust your judgment in the future, for you see some things more clearly than I! Thank you, my friend.”

  The little girl was pleased—so pleased, in fact, that she vowed to always look before speaking, to observe a situation closely before making decisions about it. If her judgment was to be trusted, she would make sure it was always the best she had to offer. She adored Bree as her big sister, the fact of blood unimportant. Bree was her family.

  The new bow and arrow became a familiar sight as Breanna sent arrows flying ahead, only to reclaim them as they reached the target. Her aim had become truer after the new fletching, but she hadn’t taken any game yet. Their need for meat was satisfied by the fish Sean caught and those animals he trapped, but sometimes they hungered for red meat from the forest. There had been a few rabbits and deer and some wild pigs crossing their paths, but nothing had come out of the trees at a time she could use her weapon. Breanna told Sean and Elida she was going to kill a brace of rabbits the next time she saw them. Sean looked at her questioningly.

  “You’ve never killed anything before. Can you do it?”

  “I’m going to try,” she said.

  Later, sitting by the fire as Elida roasted a rabbit and a haunch of venison, Breanna thought about her hunting, remembering how she had seen the first furry tail as it slipped into the grass, long legs carrying it over mounds of green growth. The rabbit had a fondness for crocus buds and vegetables growing in the forest.

  Breanna had motioned to her friends to be still and quiet as the rabbit moved without concern toward a bed of wild carrots. It searched for nubbins left in the ground and chewed them without fear. Leaning against a tall tree, the hunter braced herself, placed a red-fletched arrow on her bow string and pulled it back. Her pulling hand was at eye level in the way her father lined his targets. She hesitated for a moment, reluctant to end the life of the rabbit, but hunger drove her to align the arrow and find the kill spot on the animal’s forequarter. She loosed the arrow and watched it fly, straight and true to its mark, the rabbit unaware of what had just entered its body and taken its life.

  Breanna ran to her quarry and gently lifted it from the bed of wild carrots, feeling its soft fur against her skin. She felt saddened for a moment, and thanked the animal for its life, and for taking them to the fresh vegetables. Calling Sean and Elida to bring a carry bag and the knife, she cleaned the rabbit in the way she had learned from Alane. Willum had hunted often, and brought his kills to the women and girls to skin and cook. She passed the pelt on to Sean for making mittens or a cap for the coldest part of winter, and then gave the meat to Elida, to salt and cook with the wild carrots. Returning to the forest, Breanna searched for more game, hoping to find another rabbit to add to their food stores.

  A medium-sized deer had appeared out of the trees following a trail to the river, the deep brown of its skin and the white spots on its tail blending with the shadows of the forest. A deer would mean meat, shoes, and more sinew to make a bow for Sean, but her heart raced with fear that she would miss the shot. Breanna calmed herself and moved silently into the trees, following the unsuspecting animal. The ground in front of her dipped, making a natural bowl to catch runoff from above. In the rainy season it would hold water, but that day it was only a hole left in the forest floor.

  The urge to hunt, to take the deer, had been overpowering, for they needed it so much for survival. Please, I need help. She remembered then. Sheela, help me now—lift my feet higher above the deer so my aim might be true. Quickly her body rose in the air as on one toe she sprang aloft into a clearing. Lowering her bow toward the center of her target, Breanna pulled the fletching back and released it downward in one smooth motion. From her descent she watched as the point of her arrow entered the deer’s back just below the crest of its head. The ground gently absorbed her landing several yards in front of the deer. Thank you, Sheela.

  Fifteen summers was young in some civilizations, but in the Qay world, it was a time of maturity. Other entities had forced Breanna into early adulthood after her tenth summer, when sadness and fear moved in and changed her life. She had known since the landing of the giant Phoebus, when it removed her from the covering of its long feathers and laid her on the ground unharmed, that her innocent life was over. Its red eyes had looked into her, the hunger within its body denied by some higher order demanding allegiance and obedience as it flew away. The kindness of the Vales had saved her life. Left to the dark winds of the Emptiness, and the asylum at Thrum, she would have surely died long ago, a thing Tom Simpkin had instinctively known.

  Beside the fire, the memory of the hunt receded. Breanna’s share of the rabbit and wild carrots refreshed her physically, but her emotions were still wild and wouldn’t settle. She thought perhaps the killing of the animals had plunged her back into time. Her dreams that night recalled the fear she had embraced after everything familiar was taken from her. When she awoke frightened, Breanna considered once again the man whose cart had been her home for a short while. Tom Simpkin, peddler, trader, and handyman of all sorts. Surely he might now be found, and in finding him, she could locate the man who paid to have her carried across the Emptiness. The man knew about her and how she could get back home.

  There were also the elves, her relatives: even though they no longer chose to know the souls of Nore Mountain, they might give her shelter, and then direct her home. The Vale children would be accepted if she was; it had to be that way. They were her family and she loved them. Thinking of the Vales made her look up from the fire that had mesmerized her with its flames, to find Sean staring into her face, his lips set in an expression of confusion.

  “Bree, how did you kill the deer?”

  “With my bow; you saw the arrow that it carried in death.”

  “The arrow was in the deer’s back, pointing straight down. How did you do that?”

  “Sean, all you need to know is this: I killed the deer.” She was weary, not about to discuss the incident with Sean. He was too bright, too hard to fool. There were things in her life she couldn’t explain; this was to be his to ponder.

  “I need to sleep. Tomorrow I will skin the deer and we can set it to dry over the fire. Tonight we hang the rest from a tree and remove its insides. Will you help me, Sean?”

  “Sure. We can tie its legs together over the branch there. Hope there’s no large cats in this forest.”

  She shivered, thinking of large cats with long, curved fangs. Her poppa had used char and ocher to draw images, the creature’s size frightening to a child. She had asked him where the cats lived. They live in memory, Breanna. My memory. Lyman had been secretive, refusing to tell his small child about great cats of flesh and blood and where they might be found. She wished he had told her then she might know if they lived in her forest as well as in his memory.

  “Can you lift it, Sean?
I will climb into the tree and tie it if you can.”

  “Yes, I’ll wait until you’re there on the limb. Oh, you’re already there. How did you do that?”

  More questions. He would never be happy until he knew her secrets.

  “I am elven, that’s how I do what I do. You know this,” she said, tying the sinew tightly around the front and back legs of the deer. “Sean, you are who you are, and I don’t ask how you are able to lift the deer when I can’t. Will you be content that I am still the same girl from your family’s home? My life before you was different, remember—I lived on the side of a mountain. I am a Qay, a mix of elf and human. When you wonder how I can do some things that you can’t, remember the way you lifted the deer.”

  She jumped from the tree, not bothering to hide it from him. He looked at her for a long time, and then, shrugging, he left her alone. Breanna knew she had hurt his feelings again, but she was weary of his distrust. The time had come for them to trust one another, or they would fall prey to the witches or some vile creature living in the wood. She knew Sean would make a terrible enemy, and hoped he would not go that direction, for Elida depended upon both of them.

  The night was cold—winter’s coldest yet—and their coverings barely kept the chill away. The shelter was adequate for keeping the wind out, but the cold seeped in from the ground. They badly needed a place out of the weather for the winter.

  The next morning Sean was sullen, not speaking directly to Breanna. Elida knew there was a problem, but was unable to break through his bad attitude. She sat beside Breanna, next to the fire, worried her small family was in trouble.

  “Bree, what’s wrong with Sean? He seems mad all the time.”

  “I think he misses home and your parents, and he doesn’t know how to express it except to be mad and distrusting. Sean is a good brother to you, and he isn’t mad at you. Really, he isn’t mad at me; it’s everything terrible that happened making him mad, because he can’t change it. Do you understand?”

  Elida nodded, and then grabbed Breanna’s hand. “I love you, Bree. Don’t ever leave us.”

  “I won’t ever be far away from you, but I can’t say what will happen. I love you too, Elida. You’re my little sister.”

  The air grew colder and the sky was overcast the next morning as they skinned the deer and Sean scraped and rolled the hide. He still looked away from Breanna, not making eye contact if he could avoid it. The day progressed, then the night, another extra-cold one. The next morning a patch of ice was on the Tribon when they went to get water for cooking and bathing.

  “I’m leaving,” Sean said to Elida. “Get ready to go. We have to find a place to stay.” He finally looked at Breanna and asked, “Are you going with us?”

  “Do you want me to go?”

  “Only if you want to go,” he said, kicking the ground. Breanna remembered the little boy who went everywhere his poppa went, his life defined by his parents and the village close by. She felt bad for him, but was not going to let him bully her.

  “I’ll go as long as you abide by what I told you about me, and how there are differences between us. Can you do that? If you can’t, and you intend to be mad all the time because I don’t give in to you, then I’ll go my own way. You and Elida will probably be safer anyhow. We all know the witches want me.”

  She turned and walked away from the fire, from the only family she had known for the past five years. The Tribon was slowly freezing over; she could see the cold water flowing beneath the ice, and it looked more dangerous somehow. Making her way would be possible, but very lonely. Still, she could do it. Her greatest fear was for Elida.

  Breanna stood very still, waiting for Sean to answer her, but she was unprepared for what happened next. She felt his arm around her shoulder, his head next to hers.

  “I can abide,” he said. “I know you’re different. Always knew it, always been scared you’d leave us. So, I want you to go with us, Bree. We need to stay together, we’re family.”

  She hugged him, both of them sobbing over what they had lost. Breanna felt Elida’s arms around her waist, joining in. Before long they were laughing, going round and round in a maypole circle, waking the forest with their giggles as a flock of irritated birds fussed at them from the tops of the tallest trees.

  5.

  They found an empty cottage the next day. Its windows were pushed in and the front porch was falling down, but the doors were closed, and there was an old stock pen close by with wooden slats they could use for covering the openings in the walls. The house fire pit still stood, and some split logs were scattered behind the hut where looters had dug to the bottom of a stack in search of hidden treasure. Many country people hid valuables in their woodpiles, hoping to avoid roving thieves’ grasping fingers.

  The furniture was all gone, but they found some rusted tools and Sean used them to make a few conveniences for the house. It was a place to wait out the bitter cold. There were two rooms, enough for privacy, and Breanna was happy to be away from Sean’s questioning glances.

  Winter was harder than any they had ever seen, and in the places where country people gathered and sipped hot ciders, they whispered the name, Witches’ Cold. Streams and rivers froze across the country, making it difficult to get drinking water. Ice in the Tribon had to be sawn for them to reach the deeper water beneath. They lowered buckets and drew them back full of water, only to have them freeze as they rose to the top of the ice hole. Before long, farmers were forced to melt ice from the river in washtubs to feed their stock, and the women washed their few pieces of clothing in the same way. Fish in the river were frozen, their backs shining black and purple through the top layer of ice. That was a good thing for the villagers and the people along the Tribon. Fish were available if a person could cut through the frozen surface.

  Sean grew adept at getting through the river ice. At first he brought in one or two fish, but later, he brought more each day. Breanna wanted to ask him how he did it, but she reminded herself of the bargain she had made with him. She feared he would ask her how she always managed to have buckets of water from the river when it was bath time. Unseen by the Vale children, she used the fire from her fingers to melt large chunks of ice in her buckets as she went the short distance from the river to the house, so as yet, neither Elida nor Sean knew how she did it. If her actions hadn’t chanced exposing her secret, she would have heated the water in the old tub in the same way, for a hot bath would have been wonderful. But even though she and Sean had an uneasy peace, he was still very suspicious of her ways, and likely to believe she gained her power from witches.

  Game was still in the forest, some so cold they froze on the hoof, but others were still able to forage and find food. It was near the end of winter when the children first heard a large creature’s roar from far away, and then, quickly following, came the plaintive bleat of a goat or lamb in distress. The three shivered, knowing that something very large was surviving in the forest. They wondered when it would venture out toward their cottage. It was a fearful time, especially for Elida, who worried that one of her surviving family members would be attacked and die.

  After nights of listening to the horrible roaring, Breanna gathered her bow and the quiver of arrows at daylight. She carried a piece of dried fish in her pack for a later meal and left before Elida awoke. She told Sean she would be back; she needed to do some hunting, for their stores were almost depleted. He stared for a minute and then nodded sadly. She could tell he was afraid for her. He said he would go with her, but she refused his company, afraid to leave Elida to the creature’s mercy with them both gone. Out the doorway she went, toward the forest, her determination to end the nightly roaring the first thought in her mind. She hadn’t considered how she would kill it, she only knew she had to.

  The moon was still lit, a craven, called so by people of old when the small slice of light could be seen while the rest hid behind the stars. The forest was dark as night; the rising sun had yet to penetrate the thick covering of tree
s. The old, gnarled trunks of giant oaks appeared as beasts, standing silently in the darkness. Breanna shivered a little and moved forward, telling herself it was only trees and not monsters. There was silence in the forest, a palpable silence forced upon all the wildlife by something very large and exceedingly dangerous.

  “Go,” she told herself. “I must go forward, or go back. No standing still, for death waits if I do nothing.” The sound of her voice breaking the unnatural quiet cheered her for a minute.

  “Beastie, whatever you are come out,” she yelled into the trees. “Come out and face this gentle elven girl. Try and eat me.” Breanna felt foolish, talking to a wild animal, but the noise gave her courage. She pulled one of her arrows, and had it readied on her bow, the feeling of the small piece of wood comforting. There was rustling in the deeper woodland; she could feel it and hear it. Farther and farther she walked, in amongst the darker trees, whose limbs twisted into shapes she had never noticed before, shapes moving about, or so they seemed to her. Her guard up, she was ready to spring at a moment’s notice, for the fear in her was like small icicles piercing the skin along her arms and chest. She shivered again and called out words from her memories.

  “Beast or demon, from whatever world you came, show yourself. I am but a small, tender girl, a mouthful, nothing for you to fear.”

  Anola, let me speak to this creature in its own awful words. Let me know the meaning of its terrible roar. She thought the words and the beast’s voice came from her throat. Terrible roaring issued forth—louder than her voice, it came from the power within her. Breanna mimicked demons that had roamed the world since the beginning of time as she challenged the godless, hidden thing to battle.

  Sounds of trees being thrashed and limbs falling announced the arrival of a large mass to the right of her, then to the left, as the forest floor vibrated with the motion. She should have been more frightened, but as the creature grew closer, the power sent to challenge the beast stilled her fear, and calmed her trembling limbs.