Raven Flight

by Juliet Marillier

  I snapped out of my reverie. Tali’s hand moved to her concealed knife, but she did not complete the movement. We halted, and Tali leaned on her staff.

  A man had come to the edge of the nearby field and was examining us over the drystone wall. He was a burly individual with a pitchfork over his shoulder. At the far side of the field a younger man stood watching, a similar implement propped against the wall beside him. The field smelled of pigs, though no pigs were in sight, only a ramshackle sty.

  “Fine day,” Tali observed in neutral tones.

  “Where are you headed?”

  My skin prickled. Nobody asked this kind of question anymore. Nobody shared information with folk they did not know.

  “West,” Tali said.

  The man grinned, showing blackened teeth. “Any fool can see that. How far west?”

  “Home. The isles. Long way; we’d best get on. Good day to you.” Tali lifted her staff.

  The man’s gaze sharpened; his companion strolled over to stand beside him.

  “The isles, is it?” the first man said, and something in his tone warned me that our prepared story might not be good enough here. “Which part are you from, then?”

  I spoke before Tali could mention Stonyrigg. “You wouldn’t know the place; it’s small. I’m hoping to see my brother before we cross over. We heard he might be riding out from Summerfort soon, heading this way.” I paused for effect, then added in what I hoped was a convincing tone of pride, “He’s with Stag Troop.”

  “Best be moving on, Calla,” Tali said. “The morning’s passing and it’s a long walk.”

  Neither man said another word. Indeed, they might have been frozen where they stood.

  “Good day to you,” I said politely, and we walked on, doing our best to keep a steady, relaxed pace.

  It was only when we had crossed the last of the farms and were making our way up the hillside into the sheltering woods on the far side that Tali spoke. “Black Crow save us! What happened to Stonyrigg?”

  “He sounded as if he knew the isles. I thought he might say No such place. With two of them, and two pitchforks, I didn’t fancy the odds, not to speak of the tales people might tell afterward even if we did get away.”

  “A couple of farmers with pitchforks are no match for me, Neryn. But I see the point.” She paused to help me up a steep stretch of hillside. “Your brother, an Enforcer. Great story for shutting people up, true. But what happens if Stag Troop rides by and the fellow happens to mention that Calla was asking after her brother?”

  “What farmer in his right mind would go up to an Enforcer and talk to him about his sister?”

  “True.” We stood atop the rise to catch our breath. From here we had a fine view back over the patchwork of walled fields to the rocky hills around Hiddenwater. I could not pick out which field was the one where the men had been working, but Tali shaded her eyes against the sun, and said, “The two of them are still there, forking soiled straw out of the pigsty. Good sign; nobody went running to share the news that two disreputable-looking women were on the road.” She set down her pack and reached for her waterskin, glancing at me. “Sit down awhile, Neryn.”

  “I’m fine.” The response was automatic; I worked hard every day to keep up with her. But it was not true.

  “Sit down. That’s an order.” She passed me the waterskin and watched my hands shake as I took it. Under her assessing gaze, I subsided onto the rocks.

  “I’ll be fine soon. Sorry.”

  “You’re white as chalk. Are you hurt?”

  I shook my head. “I’m all right. Those men, talking to them, it brought back some bad memories, that’s all. Last time someone asked questions like that I ended up tied to a post, wrapped in iron chains, waiting for an Enforcer to come and take me away. I thought I’d gone past that, but clearly not. I’m sorry.”

  “No rush to move on. We’re in good cover here.” Tali fished out her packet of food and passed me a wedge of dry bread. A few coppers had obtained us supplies from the inn.

  “I’m fine, Tali, I can go on.”

  “Eat. It’ll help. And stop saying you’re sorry. You showed presence of mind down there. Gave me a bit of a fright, but you were probably right to change the story. The farther west we go, the more likely it is that people will know the isles.” She took a chunk of bread for herself. “This stuff is as hard as stone. We’ll soon be able to dispatch enemies with our teeth.” She dribbled water from the skin onto the dried-out crust. “Maybe I can go fishing while this Hag of yours gives you lessons in spellcraft. Our diet could surely do with improvement.”

  WE CAMPED IN THE WOODS ABOVE SILVERWATER, close to the waterfall known as Maiden’s Tears. The fall gushed like a lovely veil down the hillside, bordered by lush ferns and mossy rocks. The pool at the top was full of fish, and we caught enough for two days’ meals. We had made excellent time, reaching the place well before dusk.

  While Tali scaled and gutted the catch, I went off to gather firewood. Last autumn’s storms had brought down plenty of useful sticks and branches. I was making my way back to the camping spot with a load when I heard a noise that sent my heart leaping into my mouth. Hooves drummed on the road down the hill, signaling the approach of a large number of riders. I froze in place, waiting for them to pass.

  Someone shouted and the hoofbeats ceased. They had stopped at the foot of the hill. Many horses. Many men.

  What now? Creep back to Tali, then head farther up into the woods, or keep still and hope they would move on soon? Perhaps they had only stopped to adjust a load or water their horses, for the stream must flow across the track somewhere down there, perhaps as a shallow ford. But Tali might not have heard them. She might come looking for me. What if she made a noise, called out?

  I laid down my load of wood as carefully as I might a clutch of new-laid eggs. Just above me was a rocky outcrop. I went straight up, placing my feet with unusual care. Climb like a marten, I told myself. Not a sound.

  At the top I went down on my belly and wriggled forward. No sense in finding a vantage point if all it achieved was to reveal my presence to someone below. I looked down over the wooded hillside. Much of the road was obscured by foliage, but through a gap I glimpsed a flat area beside the track, a number of big black horses, riders in dark cloaks dismounting. Enforcers. How many I could not count, for they moved in and out of view. Many. Perhaps a whole troop. Packs were lifted down, bedrolls unstrapped, horses led out of sight. It looked as if they were camping for the night.

  Tali met me halfway back to the pool. Her expression told me she too had heard them. We held a rapid conversation in glances and gestures. Packs, staves, waterskins, knives. The fish? In my bag. The rubbish? Buried. Keep quiet. Up the hill, fast as you can. You all right? Yes, you? Mm-hm. Go.

  We climbed far above the pool, to an area dense with bramble-netted rocks, a place a traveler would enter only if she were stupid or desperate. From up here, we heard no sound of horses or men. The lakeshore below us was hidden by the trees; there was no way of knowing if the troop was seated comfortably at the bottom by a campfire or spread out on the hillside tracking us. The light was fading fast.

  “A bit higher,” Tali whispered. “Up there near the ridge, see? Pick up the pace, I want to be under cover of those rocks before dark.”

  I gritted my teeth and moved on after her. The brambles had etched their own bloody tattoos on the skin of my arms. There was a jagged rent in my cloak. My feet hurt. What upset me most of all, foolishly, was that there would be no fire and therefore no fish tonight. Not for us, anyway.

  By the time we reached the outcrop, I was stumbling, unable to see my way. Tali did not have the same difficulty.

  “Over here, Neryn.” Even so far above the loch shore, she kept her voice to a murmur.

  There was a slight overhang and beneath it a hollow, comfortable enough provided the weather stayed dry. We settled there.

  “I was looking forward to that fish,” Tali said, getting out the re
mains of her dried-out bread. “But not enough to eat it raw.”

  “Do you think they were after us? Because of what I said to that man on the farm?”

  “I doubt it. If they’d been tracking us, they’d have had men up in the woods, not riding on the road. Besides, you may be of interest to the king, but he’s hardly going to send a whole troop of Enforcers thundering after you.”

  I said nothing. From the moment I’d spotted the troop, I’d been imagining Flint among them, at the bottom of this very hill. So close. My longing to see him was an ache in my chest. Foolish. There was no good reason to think this was Stag Troop, save for that dream of him at Summerfort.

  “At least we know where they are and that they’re heading west,” Tali said. “Be glad it’s not culling time. Be glad they got there before we made a fire, not after, or they’d have been up the hill in a flash to see who was out wandering so late in the day.” She sat in silence awhile, then added, “They’ll be on the road ahead of us. Well ahead, since we’re on foot.”

  I said nothing.

  “They could be going to Pentishead. If they take that road, we may need to change the plan. Go up the coast to Darkwater and find a boat there.”

  Go to the place where I had watched the Enforcers sweep in for the Cull. Where I had seen my father burned to death. “The Northies did give us precise directions. That included heading out from Pentishead.”

  “Maybe so, but I know where Ronan’s Isle is; I can find it from anywhere on that stretch of coast. The Northies would hardly expect us to walk into Pentishead if it was full of Enforcers.”

  Darkwater. The prospect made my insides shrivel up. It drained away all my courage.

  “Neryn? Do you understand?”

  In a war, you obey your leader. “I understand.”

  Lying awake in the encampment, Owen Swift-Sword thought of Shadow. Many times he had regretted leaving her behind, though she was in good enough hands. It wasn’t easy to conceal such a horse, all sleek, high-bred lines and muscular strength. You couldn’t put a beast like that out to graze with mountain ponies, unless you lived so far from the tracks of men that there’d likely be no grazing beyond lichens and mosses. She was far away; there seemed no chance she would be his again, unless the whole of Alban changed.

  Now he had Lightning, one of the horses that had found their way back to Summerfort after the cataclysmic rockfall in which the men of Boar Troop had perished, high in the mountains, while pursuing erroneous rumors of rebel activity. An accident. A disastrous accident. Only one survivor: himself. At least, that was the story he had told, the one Keldec had chosen to believe. He wondered, sometimes, if the king was lonely. Perhaps Keldec had accepted his unlikely account rather than lose a man he regarded as a friend. He had so few friends.

  Boar Troop had left their horses by the stream, hobbled, before they’d entered the rocky area where Regan’s forces had ambushed them. Coming back down, alone, he’d set the animals free. There had been no other choice. One or two of them had kept pace with him as he walked along the valley, until he’d gone up to the high track to lose them. Riding an Enforcer mount back to Summerfort had not been part of his plan.

  Not all the horses had found their way home. Some had probably perished in the highland winter; some might have been taken in by farmers, though most folk would see the peril in this. Among farm horses, an Enforcer’s mount would stand out like a fine-bred hunting hound among scruffy terriers. And nobody wanted to face the penalty for stealing what was, essentially, the king’s property.

  Lightning, easily recognized by a small white blaze on his otherwise night-black coat, had belonged to Gusan. Now, as Owen lay among his sleeping comrades, the image in his mind was not of the dark sky above, spangled with stars, nor of the slumbering forms of the others, their bellies comfortably full after a supper of freshly caught fish. It was of Gusan lying dead on the battlefield, his leather breast-piece split open by the mighty blow of Tali’s ax. His eyes blank. His face like pale parchment. The wreckage of his body, and the crimson pool beneath, fast-spreading.

  There was no escaping it. He had led them there. He had led them to their deaths; he had swung his sword in support of Regan’s Rebels in the battle. And now here he was, heading west on the king’s mission with another troop of comrades around him, men who trusted him, men who believed in him. And if there was need, he would do it all again. What kind of man did that make him?

  From the woods above their camping place came a high shriek of pain, abruptly cut off. Something hunting. Something dying. A man unworthy of friendship, he thought. A man unworthy of love. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to think of Neryn.

  As we went farther west, the terrain became steep and rocky, the forested glens giving way to a far starker landscape, in which great seams and crevices split the stone like the marks of a giant’s ax, and the air smelled of the sea. The plan was to come as close to Pentishead settlement as we could while staying off the main track. If the king’s men were there, we would retreat and head north. If there was no sign of them, we’d risk going down to the bay and asking for a lift over to the isles. There would be fishing boats going in and out every day, if the weather stayed fair. With luck, someone would be prepared to take us.

  It was a long walk, and a difficult one. Traveling alone, I’d have been much slower. But Tali found paths where it seemed no paths existed. Her tireless determination pushed me farther than I had believed I could go. Only once, as we lay beside yet another meager fire in yet another windswept corrie, she said, “Aren’t you tempted to ask the Good Folk for help when you get cold and hungry or when it just seems too far to walk? That thing at the ford did exactly what you needed it to do. And I imagine there might be similar creatures everywhere we go. I’ve noticed how you put offerings out for them each morning before we move on. You could make things much easier, couldn’t you? You could call out some flying creature to transport us over to the isles right now with no need to worry about Enforcers. You could ask your uncanny friends to provide better shelter, a hot meal, all sorts of things. But you don’t.”

  “Until I find the Hag, I’m like a blind person feeling a way forward. The gift is so powerful. It’s frightening. It would be wrong to use it for convenience—if we’re hungry, for instance, or if we want to get somewhere more quickly. It should be saved for the times when it’s the only solution. When it makes the difference between life and death. If I hadn’t called the river being, we’d both have been killed.”

  “That creature had to be there to be called,” Tali said. “Did you know it was in the water? What if there hadn’t been any uncanny folk in that place?”

  “I felt them. I knew they were close. As they are here, all around us.” I glanced across the windswept hillside, a place of tumbled rocks, gorse, thistles. Lichens, yellow, white, purple, crept with gentle insistence over the stone, softening the gray. “In the rocks. In the earth. Everywhere.”

  “But they don’t come out as you say they did when you were traveling alone,” Tali observed. “They don’t visit our campfire and stay for a wee chat.”

  “If you wrapped up your knives, they might.”

  “Ha! Out here in the open, with just the two of us, it’d be foolish to take such a risk. With Enforcers in the district, doubly so. Neryn?”

  “Mm?”

  “Why are some of the Good Folk afraid of iron, when others aren’t troubled by it? When that thing came up out of the river, there were weapons everywhere, not only mine but those men’s as well. And afterward, someone took the trouble to wrap up our knives and deposit them where we’d find them.”

  “That’s a question for the Guardians,” I said. “I hope the Hag of the Isles will have some answers.”

  “You may be seeing her quite soon,” Tali said. “We should reach Pentishead tomorrow.”

  “Then let’s hope there’s no sign of Enforcers, and we find a nice little boat and a cooperative boatman to sail us across,” I said, attempting to b
e cheerful.

  “More likely we’ll have to trust to some leaky craft too unseaworthy to be of value to the local fishermen. And row it ourselves.”

  I hoped very much that she was joking.

  The sun was in the west as we climbed the last rise next day, and the air above us was alive with wheeling gulls. I could hear the great, restless wash of the waves. We came to the top, and there before us was the sea, deep blue-gray and dotted with whitecaps. The isles lay in that vast expanse like a pod of strange sea creatures, some near at hand, some losing themselves in mysterious veils of mist. A larger island, closest to the coastline, had a settlement of low stone-and-thatch dwellings. On the sloping pasture-land behind it grazed hardy sheep. I could see a jetty and a row of boats pulled up on the shore beside it.

  Immediately below us lay Pentishead settlement, a straggle of cottages and small jetties fringing the bay, with the main track coming in around the shore. It wouldn’t be easy to get down there; we’d be descending what amounted to a cliff path, and the rock looked broken and crumbling. To attempt it under cover of darkness would be inviting a long, damaging fall.

  “I’m going along there to get a clearer view,” Tali said, indicating a place where the hilltop rose to a cluster of high rocks. “Stay here and keep still.”

  I moved back and sat down in a place I judged to be reasonably well concealed. I made myself recall the Northies’ strange map of the isles and the path they’d bidden us follow. The wee boat had passed south of that bigger island, the one closest to shore. It had threaded a course between many other isles, until the tiny Twayblade had made landfall on Ronan’s Isle, far to the west. The Northies’ map had shown at least one islet beyond it; I recalled it as high and flat-topped with towering cliffs all around, a place likely inhabited only by gannets.

  When Twayblade had enacted the voyage in the safety of Shadowfell’s dining area, it had looked peaceful. The ocean out there, stirred by a bracing westerly, was a different matter. Tali couldn’t really be expecting me to row, could she? I was much stronger than I had been, but that looked … Don’t say it. Don’t say it’s impossible.