by LeRoy Clary
The thin, black knife reminded her of the enchanted knife in her father’s drawer. While simple, it held a beauty in design. The blacksmith watched her move it from side to side, feel the sharpness of both edges, and the balance. The blade and handle felt the same weight, while other knives were blade-heavy. She raised her eyes to the blacksmith.
“For throwing.” He held out his hand, took the knife and flipped it to catch by the blade, then again to the handle. In a single movement, he threw to knife three steps to the log that held up the room of the shop, where it struck with a solid sound.
“I thought it was for stabbing.”
“Both. Throwing takes practice, and you only get one chance. If you miss, or the knife handle hits first, you need to run. Stabbing means you’ve let your opponent get too close.”
“You talk like a knight,” Hannah observed.
“Nope, but I was a weapons maker for the King’s army until I lost my foot.”
Hannah hadn’t noticed. The work table between them prevented her from seeing the carved piece of wood that replaced his left foot, and he didn’t favor it. He said, “If you’re satisfied with the knives, I’ll cut your coin.”
“Cut it. Are you going to show me more about fighting?”
He hefted a chisel and placed the coin on his anvil. A single swing of his hammer splits the coin into two pieces. “Hold the curved knife to defend yourself.”
She picked it up and imagined an attacker as she set her stance.
“No,” he said, adjusting half the coin to strike it again. “Turn the knife over so the sharp edge is up. Swing it from side to side.”
“I want to stab him.”
The blacksmith split the half coin with another blow. “You want to slice, not stab. If you stab, that means you’re close enough to be grabbed, thrown to the ground and stomped. Slicing keeps your opponent at a distance until you can run.”
“Same with the other knife?”
He split the second half and scooped the four pieces into his hand and returned to the work table. “The other knife is your surprise. It stays hidden. The edge will cut bindings if someone ties you, the point will stab an opponent who comes too close, and you have a single chance to throw it.”
“You said you’d teach me,” she said, selecting the largest of the four pieces and sliding it closer to him while gathering the other three and placing them in her bag.
He pulled a drawer open and selected a scabbard from among many. Glancing at her waist, he pulled a belt and cut it to size. He threaded the scabbard to the belt and looped it around her. Cinching the belt, helped hold up her pants.
Silently, he pulled another scabbard and held it up. It was stiff leather with soft thongs hanging from each side. He carried it to her. “Turn around and remove your shirt.”
She did, and he looped the first thong over her shoulder and tied it to the bottom of the scabbard, then repeated it for the other side. “Pull your shirt back on and let me see how it sits.”
With the shirt on, the unfamiliar feel of the knife sitting between her shoulder blades felt odd and awkward at the same time. She worked her shoulders a few times until the sheath felt comfortable.
“Good,” he said. “The top of the hilt is below the neckline, and I can’t even see the knife. Now, reach over your shoulder and pull it free.” She reached, and he seized her fingers as she grabbed the knife. “No, don’t wrap your hand around the hilt. Pull it out with the tips of your fingers—like you’re going to throw it. You don’t want to waste time readjusting it when you have to throw.”
She pulled the knife with her fingertips, and he guided her hand to a throwing position with minimum movement. As the blade came free, her hand was as high as the top of her head, as far back as her ear. He said, “Good. Now replace it and do it again. Pull it exactly the same, but this time, when the blade comes free, throw at that post.”
Hannah struggled to fit it back into the scabbard, then dropped her arms to her sides and relaxed. In one movement she reached for the knife, pulled it free . . . and dropped it on the ground.
“You expected it to work the first time?” he growled in response to her embarrassment.
She replaced the knife and tried again. The knife smacked against the post, blade down, and fell. Hannah left it in the dirt. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing. When you throw, the knife will spin the same amount each time. Take a small step back and try again.”
She marked her spot with a foot, making a line in the sand. The knife struck tip first but turned up too far for it to stick. She retrieved it and moved another half step back. It stuck for a second, then fell.
He nodded. “You're too nice to that attacker. If you’re going to slow or stop him, you’d better throw harder. And take one more step back because the blade will spin faster.”
Hannah replaced the knife in the scabbard and pretended the post was one of the three men fighting over pennies who chased her the day before. She reached her hand behind her head, drew the knife from the scabbard and threw, all in one motion, quick as a snake striking. The blade hit the post point first and quivered.
“That’ll do,” the blacksmith said, smiling for the first time. “That is as good as I’ve seen most warriors do, and you’re still learning. Look at the distance between you and the post. That’s what you have to memorize. A skilled fighter might have three different distances, but you need one. Nothing fancy. Get the right distance and throw for the chest. Then run.”
“You keep saying to run.”
“You only have one knife to throw. Once you do, you’re weaponless, and your opponent is going to be very angry. Run. Get away.”
“Why are you teaching me this?”
“I teach all my buyers how to use what I make.”
Hannah looked at her black knife in the post and the smirk on the face of the blacksmith. “No, you don’t. Not like this.”
“Will you ever return this way?”
“Yes,” she told him solemnly.
“Would you mind stopping by here and telling me what you’ve been up to?”
She stuck out her hand to shake his. “I always enjoy talking with my friends.”
“So, we’re friends, now?” The smirk evolved into a genuine smile.
“We are.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Hannah left the blacksmith with her new knives, one at her hip and one hidden under her shirt, and instructions to throw the knife a hundred times each evening. The joke was on him because she didn’t know how to count to a hundred.
Being in the forest now felt almost like home. While ever changing, it took on a sameness that she felt comfortable with. A dozen times she saw trees that made good targets and she estimated the distance for the throws and imagined the knife spinning in the air and striking the trunk. However, she also imagined missing her throw and the knife spinning off into the forest where she couldn’t find it again, so the throws remained imaginary.
Twice she returned to the road and walked until she found it. Then she slipped back into the cover of the trees and continued on her way. After climbing a hill, the view of the far side revealed a valley filled with farms. It was not where they had taken the wagon, but the one after. She was getting close. She recognized a large farmhouse made of layers of logs, each distinct from the others as the house had several additions. Probably as another child or two were born a new room had been added. It gave the house a personality, something she could understand and appreciate.
Four times she spotted men on horseback patrolling the road. Twice more she found men hidden, watching the road and the people, no doubt searching for a blonde girl. She repeatedly used her thumb to smear soot along her hairline and imagined it dripping down with her sweat. She must look awful, but as long as she looked male and dark haired, she might not be noticed.
Instead of taking the road, as Hannah had when traveling it before, she skirted around the valley as Sir James had taught her. When she saw a flock
of sheep and the dog that guarded them, she made a wider circle. The barking dog would alert anyone in the area. It took longer to go around, but she had little choice.
As the day wore on, she tired and wished for a nap, but didn’t slow. In the late afternoon, as the sun sank low enough to touch the tops of the trees, a rough voice stilled her as it said, “If you were a deer you’d have an arrow in you and I’d be taking home venison to make jerky.”
She turned slowly, trying to act calm despite her heart beating so hard the boy who had crept up behind her must hear it. She said, “What are you doing?”
The boy, a few years older than her was dressed in the homespun clothing of a farmer. He wore a straw hat that flopped down on one side as if it had been crushed and wouldn’t retake its original shape. His freckles formed a mustache across his nose, and the faint growth of a future beard darkened his cheeks. He held up his bow and said, “Isn’t it obvious?”
“You are hunting for deer?”
“Nope. Girls. Well, one of them, anyhow. Probably the same one as you.”
Hannah realized he had given her an excuse to be sneaking around in the forest. “The princess?”
“Ever hear of such a thing?” the boy asked, sitting on a convenient log and pulling off a boot. He shook it and watched the contents fall.
Hannah couldn’t help herself. “They say she’s pretty.”
“Pretty is what the gold is they’ll pay for her.”
“Gold? I heard it was silver.”
“That was a day or two ago. Gold now. What’s that black all over your face?”
“Soot from helping the blacksmith.”
“You apprenticing?”
She didn’t know what that was, but it sounded like she should. “No, just helping a friend.”
“Well, he should repay you with a bucket of water. Say, there’s a stream at the foot of this hill with a swimming hole. What say we go skinny dipping?”
Hannah shook her head. “Nope, if that girl is around here, I intend to find her and collect. But next time I’m around here it would be fun.”
“You’re right, I guess. We should keep searching so we can get rich. I live in the valley down there,” he pointed. “Whitewashed barn, mostly my work last year.”
“When I return, I’ll stop in and maybe we can take that swim.” She turned to leave.
“Hey, you never told me where you live.”
She pointed as she walked, “Over that way. In the tall trees.” To herself, she added, with a sorceress.
The words almost pulled her up short. With a sorceress. Hannah had made her mind up that the woman called Evelyn would take her in. She had been helpful to Sir James and Hannah, but there had been nothing to indicate she would. What if she didn’t?
The sorceress could still help, Hannah decided. She could teach Hannah a few spells, and after all, Evelyn had said she needed a few coins and Hannah had plenty coins to pay the sorceress. Hannah would pay for the information and knowledge of who might house and feed her. And perhaps Evelyn knew of other sorceresses who could find Hannah a place to live for a long while, where she could study magic.
Hannah glanced over her shoulder more than once, making sure the farmer boy was not stalking her, and others as well. She moved to the far end of the valley before nightfall. The day turned chilly, and black, ominous clouds threatened a storm.
Hannah wanted a snug place, warm fire, and the security to sleep all night without waking in fear. Drawing a deep breath, she decided she would have none of the three this night. The wind picked up, and she added a windbreak to his wish list and spotted a shelf of rock almost immediately. The wind came from the east, and if she huddled below the shelf of rock, the wind would pass over her. At least, that was the idea as she spread her blanket around herself and squatted down.
She reached into the bag and pulled out a few stale nuts, broken salted crackers, and the last carrot. Again, there would be no fire to act as a beacon for those she wanted to avoid. Odd that fire had started this adventure, and her smallest finger could ignite one, yet she had to avoid them. It was almost funny. Almost, but not really.
She looked up at the sky and wished for the stars to appear, but the heavy clouds prevented any light from penetrating. The night grew as dark as any she had experienced. The wind whipped around, and she tucked the bottom of the blanket under herself as she listened for any intruders or animals. Animals didn’t scare her, but men did. None should be on the move tonight unless they were up to no good.
Once she thought she heard talking over the wind, or perhaps carried by it. The expected rain didn’t fall, and she thanked six of the gods above for that relief. The trees over her bent in the stiff wind and Hannah remembered the fallen trees and those with tops broken off that she had seen throughout the forest. She could be crushed if one of them fell on her. The image built in her mind and expanded until she sat with her eyes looking up in near terror.
When she managed to close them, she slept a deep but restless sleep that didn’t provide much rest. The dawn provided light that filtered through dense clouds, but not much heat. She stood, wrapped the blanket around herself and started walking with her head hung low and eyes focused on the ground in front of her.
The road still ran parallel to her direction, but she felt the need to check after becoming lost the day before. Or was it two days? When she located the road across the vista of farmlands, she sat and watched. Riders prominently traveled the road from one end of the valley to the other, then back again. Show.
The word sprang into her mind. They were not there to capture her; they were there for show. For her to see. And when she saw them she would do one of a few things. She might hide and remain hidden until she ran out of food, or she might run away from them. If the riders were for display as she believed, they were there to herd her. They would funnel her into a trap they’d set.
Where and how? They closed the road to her, so she assumed they were patrolling all roads and doing much the same. For most people running, that would mean they would head back to the relative safety of the King’s Palace. If the riders prevented her from going farther from the palace, they could eventually close their net and force her to return or reveal herself.
The third possibility was that the patrols were to keep her off the road and moving in the forest. Which she was doing. She felt a chill colder than the morning air. Hannah tried to consider what her enemies thought. They would decide that if Hannah is not inside the Palace, and not on the road, someone is hiding her. Either that or she is wandering in the forest.
What would I do if it was me searching? Hannah thought about it. She knew. She would send the hunters to the farthest places a girl could run in two days along the roads and begin a house to house search. The reward money would draw more people hunting her. Even those not after her would search, like the farmer boy last night. Whole families would be hunting her. Farmers would keep their eyes on the forests searching for the girl worth a treasure.
Without her disguise, several would have already found her. Only the blacksmith had suspected, and he had ignored who she was. She felt certain that he knew, but for reasons of his own, he ignored her and the reward.
She squatted on the hillside and watched. Three men on horses were moving back and forth, scattered, so one always saw everything on the road ahead. A wagon appeared, the back of it filled with men in uniform. The wagon pulled to a stop at the head of the valley, and the men climbed out, one taking charge. Hannah couldn’t hear the words, but at a wave of his arm, they split into two groups, one on either side of the road, perhaps five or six men in each group. They headed for the nearest farm, searching every barn, house, outbuilding, and hiding place.
From the hillside, she watched them push a farmer aside as they forcibly entered his house. When the dog barked too much or attacked a searcher, a sword stabbed the dog, and it fell. It was a warning. The farmer backed off and controlled his other dog, but his head kept looking at his dog and the
soldiers kept their weapons in hand.
Two more wagons arrived, and more soldiers piled out, again on both sides of the road. The same one who directed the others pointed to the sides of the valley, to the tree line and almost directly at Hannah. Ten men on each side of the road. Ten soldiers started walking to the forest to begin their search.
Hannah had seen enough. She now knew where the soldiers were, and if she moved quickly, they would remain behind her. She went into the forest to prevent an accidental sighting from below and moved quickly and quietly to the end of the valley and over the few hills that separated it from the next valley.
There she waited and watched, heart pounding because she didn’t see the farmhouse where they’d gotten the wagon. She counted to four, and it was not the right farm on either side is the road. It’s at the other end of the valley. Her heart rate slowed, but only a little as she watched the groups of soldiers searching the farms. Others patrolled the road, and she assumed still others were searching the forest where she hid.
The soldiers searching the houses were on the third farm on both sides of the road. If they were doing as in the last valley, they had already searched where she sat, and they were now moving through the trees about the same distance as where the crews on the ground searched. All she had to do was move no faster than them. Behind them, where they had already searched would be the last place they would think to search again.
She imagined the soldiers in the forest, spread out, but within sight of each other and moving at the same rate, looking under and bushes, in the trees above, and behind boulders. If she moved carefully, she could catch up enough to hear them talk. But it was not a game. If one returned for any reason, he would spot her, and she didn’t want to guess what would happen.