The children were strangely quiet for most of the trip, and when they would complain from fatigue or cold, Nara or Mykel would carry them. For most of the day, Mykel held one in each of his arms, tirelessly moving forward without complaint. He was strong and good, his presence comforting not only to Nara but also to the others. Nara thought of the good father he could be, working hard for his family, helping others in trouble, defending those in danger. He would fight for justice in whatever place he eventually called home. She wondered if that would be her home too.
The day came to a close, and the sun began to slip behind a mountain peak.
“Let’s camp here,” Mykel said. He set down the girl he’d carried for the last hour and pointed to a stone depression on the southeast side of a descending slope. “Nara, would you make that into more of a shelter?”
She nodded and walked toward the stone depression. It was eroded by waters from above and loose rocks presented a challenge for her ankles as she navigated her way through the depression. The stone was dry, but with no bedrolls for the children, sleeping on the rocky surface would be uncomfortable.
She flared the earth rune in her thoughts and reached out with one hand to touch the stone of the mountain, calling it, coaxing it. She imagined how she wanted it to change, to shape itself. It responded. The depression receded into the mountain, becoming a cave thirty feet deep. Loose rocks on the ground near the entrance transformed to soil, then expanded, extending into the cave itself. Soft dirt, warm. Near the entrance, a stone pit revealed itself and eight circular, flat stones emerged from the soil beneath, rising, distributed around the pit. Seats for little children so they could warm themselves by a fire.
She broke the connection and looked about. It was dark in the cave, but there was no way to provide permanent lighting without opening the cave to rainfall from above. Yet the soil was much better for sleeping than hard rock would be, and she hoped that once a fire was crackling, they would be warm. It was a good place.
After deciding that the cave would suffice, she turned back to the group, only to find the oldest girl standing a dozen feet away, mouth open.
“Hello, Nilly,” Nara said. Although they’d spoken little, she’d learned the girl’s name during the trip. Nilly had been helpful in keeping the younger ones moving.
“How did you do that?”
“Um, it’s kind of hard to explain.”
The girl walked into the cave, knelt, and ran her hands across the rim of the fire pit and the stone seats. She turned back to Nara. “It’s beautiful.”
“Why, thank you,” Nara said, smiling.
“Are you an angel?”
Nara smiled. What a sweet child. Perhaps ‘child’ wasn’t the best word. She was only a couple of years younger than Nara. “No, I’m just a person. Like you.”
“Not like me,” Nilly said. “I could never do anything like this.”
Nilly was right, she couldn’t do this and never would. Nara felt oddly self-conscious at the realization. She cleared her throat before asking, perhaps too quickly, “Could you help me gather the little ones in here? We all need to rest.”
A short time later, several children were asleep on the soft dirt of the cave floor. Nara started the fire with wood Mykel had collected, not bothering to hide her talent. Between the fight with the soldiers and earth-shaping, there seemed to be little point in secrecy. The questions came, as expected.
“I’m gifted, Nilly. So is Mykel. You’re safe with us.”
It wasn’t enough of an explanation for the chaos these children had recently endured, but it would have to do. At least they didn’t seem fearful. Perhaps being kidnapped from their homes was scarier than being protected by gifted strangers, and the magic brought them comfort. Or perhaps they simply knew that they had few options and were grateful for a warm cave and a crackling fire.
When Nara lay down for the night, most of the children had already fallen asleep. Mykel came and lay at her side.
“You did well today,” she told him. “They like you.”
“I did nothing. Other than biting my lip for miles, frustrated that I couldn’t be running to Dimmitt.”
“We couldn’t leave them with the soldiers, Mykel. Or by themselves in the middle of nowhere.”
“I know, but at what price? Your premonition is worrying me. We might have been able to prevent the attack on our home. If this delays us—”
“I know.”
She stared at the cave’s dark ceiling for a moment, the shadows from the flickering fire dancing across the stone’s surface in a hypnotic pattern.
“The fight yesterday,” Mykel said.
“Yes?”
“You did it again.”
“Did what.”
“Wasted too much energy.”
“I got the job done.”
“The way you moved afterward–you were tired, and it wasn’t even a long battle. Be more efficient, or you won’t last.”
His tone was disapproving, and she didn’t enjoy hearing it. As if she didn’t already know her limitations. “I know.”
“There will be battles, Nara. Maybe many. Your passion makes you strong. Stronger than me, even. But if you can’t last–”
“I know. I’m trying!”
“Try harder. Kayna may have no such weakness. And she isn’t slowed by compassion. She will crush us if you can’t match her strength.”
“She has armies! How could I ever match that? And do you expect me to just let children die?”
“No, but I expect you to end this all. Somehow. You’re our only hope.”
“No pressure,” she scoffed.
“You told me to trust you. Okay, I will. But you need to be trustworthy. You can’t just live in a pretend world of smiles and hugs, running around loving everyone, and expect to win a war against that evil woman.”
Nara bit her lip but didn’t respond because she had nothing to say. He was right. Having magic with no cepp was a boon compared to a normal gifted, but it required her to use the magic in her own spirit and when that ran low, she became vulnerable. Kayna had no such handicap. She just sucked the life out of other people and was probably more efficient with her magic as well.
Frustration with the problem and no clear solution kept Nara awake deep into the night. After a time, she rose to refuel the fire with fresh logs, then stood near the entrance to the cave, looking out at the dark valley below. Keetna was close, and the children would be back in their village soon. Or what remained of it.
She eventually found her way back to the soft soil that was her bed, only to find one of the little ones curled up next to Mykel, sleeping soundly. She joined them, hugging close, comforted by their warmth and the soothing sounds of their easy slumber. She closed her eyes and waited for the morning that would soon arrive.
With hardly an hour of sleep, Nara rose with the sun and collected berries to provide a meager breakfast for the children. There wasn’t enough food for her and Mykel, but they would be fine, and the children needed the energy to finish the trek home. Mykel awoke a short time later to begin gathering the children. As they set out to leave, Nara wondered if she should cover up the cave.
“Leave it,” Mykel said. “Who knows if travelers going through the pass might need shelter? It might save a life.”
She smiled in agreement, picked up one of the smaller children, and walked down the hill. Someday a stranger might thank Dei for that little cave, and the pride she felt upon its creation came back to her in a small portion.
It took half a day to reach Keetna—or, rather, what remained of it. Blackened cottages lined the riverside that hosted the medium-sized village. It was much bigger than the destroyed villages they’d passed in recent days but no less damaged.
Fortunately, there were several people there, removing burnt timbers from the homes. As they approached, an elderly matron broke away from the others. She wore a torn, soot-stained dress and scurried to meet them. Several children ran to greet her while Nilly staye
d by Nara’s side.
“Mimi!” they screamed. “We missed you.”
The woman was at least sixty years old but seemed to have more than her share of energy and enthusiasm for the little ones.
“Oh blessings,” she said. “I thought I’d lost you all.”
“She’s like everyone’s grandma,” Nilly said, her voice cracking and tears on her cheeks.
“I’m glad,” Nara said.
Nilly joined the children in Mimi’s embrace, then grabbed her hand and led her to Nara and Mykel. Two of the children clung to the woman’s legs, making it difficult for her to walk. A few moments later, two other women ran to greet the children, scooping several up into their arms and cheering. The remaining children just stood in a huddle, looking about for families that might never come.
“These are the people who saved us,” Nilly said to Mimi.
Mimi gave a shallow bow and a wide grin. “Thank you,” she said, then picked up one of the little ones who tugged on her dress.
“The soldiers,” Mimi said. “How did you . . . ?”
“They fought them all,” Nilly explained. “Just the two of them. They are gifted, Mimi.”
“Then Dei has truly blessed us. Again, thank you.”
Nara didn’t know what to say. This woman was grateful for the return of the village’s children, but the village had been razed, leaving few standing shelters and likely little means for the remaining villagers to feed themselves. Now there were more mouths to feed. Worst of all, there was no defense against royal soldiers coming back and doing it all again.
“How will you provide for yourselves?” Mykel asked. “How will you defend yourselves?”
“We’ll manage,” Mimi said. “There are farmers tending fields to the south. They were unharmed and still grow crops. Dei will provide.”
Such faith in the face of calamity. Nara couldn’t contemplate what strength of spirit she carried to endure in such circumstances. “What can we do to help?” Nara asked.
“You have done enough by returning our little treasures,” she answered. “I’m sure you have more important things to do.”
She was right. Dimmitt needed them, and they couldn’t protect the entire Great Land at once.
Mykel put a hand on Nara’s shoulder. “We should go.”
Nilly stepped boldly up to Nara, her eyes focused, brows narrowed. “Take me with you.”
“You are needed here.”
“My family is gone.”
“You are the oldest of the children,” Nara said. “Almost a woman. They will need you to care for them. These little ones, and Mimi, they are your family now.”
Nilly’s demeanor relaxed, head dropping.
“I’ll visit you,” Nara said. “As soon as I can. To check on you.”
Nilly looked up to give a grateful smile.
They said goodbye to each of the children, and to Mimi before setting out at a fast pace to the south. They had lost much time, and Dimmitt was still far away.
7
Punishment
Sammy crouched in the hollow, eyes fixed on the brown coney as it hopped toward the waiting snare a few yards ahead. Simon Tinny was at his side, and they both held their breath as the fuzzy creature inched toward the apple core that had been placed as bait.
A bent sapling strained against the round trigger that Sammy had crafted for the task, attached to a looped piece of string that served as the noose. He had sanded one side of the trigger to make it hold better, and it served him well–he’d already caught one coney yesterday. Sammy gave a thumbs-up to Simon, then nodded, confident it would work again today.
Several more moments passed as the coney nibbled at the treat. Testing. Tasting. Then it took a bite, pushing the apple as it did so, and the trigger slipped. The sapling came free, springing straight, pulling the string and catching both of the coney’s rear feet in its tightened loop. It emitted a muffled squeal in surprise.
“Got it!” Simon stood, clapping. “Great job, Sam.”
If only Mykel were here to see it. He had gotten much better with snares in the last few months and fashioned half a dozen triggers that worked almost every time. But Mykel had not come home.
Sammy liked to imagine that Mykel had survived the announcement and now lived in a faraway part of the Great Land, married to his sweet Nara. He thought of his brother wearing armor and carrying a sword, a powerful warrior who led armies. Other times he thought of Mykel as a simple farmer with a big field of potatoes he tended. Nara was his beautiful lady-wife, and she cared for their dozen children, some with black hair and some with red hair, little versions of Mykel and Nara running about and playing.
“Nonsense,” Pop had told him. “Your brother is dead. He’s cursed, and you’re an idiot. Grow up.”
But Sammy refused to believe it. Mykel still lived. He would come home someday.
As Sammy reached the panicked creature, he grabbed it by the neck and slipped the noose free from its feet. He looked it in the eyes as it struggled, trying to bite him, its eyes darting back and forth. So scared. Suffering. Sammy felt sorry for it, but he could understand. Sometimes he was scared too. With a quick motion from his other hand, he twisted and pulled the creature’s head, snapping its neck.
“You can have this one, Simon,” he said, handing the prize to his friend.
“Are you sure?”
“Pop and I ate one yesterday.” He handed over the bounty, then knelt to untie the trigger and string. “And take these too. Now you know how it works, you can catch your own. Just don’t take my spots!”
“I won’t,” Simon said as he received the valuable gifts. “I’ll find new ones. Honest. Thanks, Sam. It will thrill Mama.”
Sammy smiled. Simon was a good kid, and although he was eleven, just like Sammy, he seemed to be sweeter. Nicer. It was because he had a mama. She wore an apron and her hair was messy, but Sammy didn’t care. Simon’s mama was a kind lady and laughed a lot. It was a funny laugh, almost like a donkey, and it made Sammy laugh every time. Simon would blush when his mama laughed, but Sammy wouldn’t have been ashamed at all. Sammy envied him. Living with a mama would be nice. She was someone to tuck you in at night and sing to you. She was someone who said nice things about you and rubbed your back when you cried about stuff. Sammy wished he had one.
He left Simon behind and headed toward the village. There was no food at home and he had given away the coney. Tonight would be a hungry one if he couldn’t find scraps. Perhaps someone in town would have extra food.
His stomach growled as he approached the church. The stage remained outside, left over from the announcement a few months back. Some folks had commented on how it was cursed, just like Mykel, and nobody dared to touch it for fear of the curse spreading. Sammy slowed, wondering if it really was. He scaled the steps to the top, wood creaking under his bare feet. On reaching the top, he saw the boards where the blood had spilled. Blood from Nara, Finn Willy, and Gilbert Bonny. And Mykel. Cursed blood, they said.
He sat in the middle, crossing his legs and leaning forward, elbows on knees and chin resting on his hands. It didn’t seem cursed. It just seemed like wood. But it was the last place he’d seen his brother before Nara’s pop carried them both away.
The memory haunted Sammy, but being in this place comforted him, somehow bringing him closer to Mykel. He closed his eyes.
“Get off that stage,” came a sudden voice.
Sammy looked to see Father Taylor waving through an open window in the church.
“Get off there this minute,” he said again, then grumbled something Sammy couldn’t make out.
Sammy frowned, then stood and descended the steps without a word and walked toward the docks. Father Taylor had been grumpier these last few months. The nice old man had become like a hermit and sometimes even canceled church services. Lots of folks had gone sad and talked about curses and how Dei didn’t love them anymore. Some even moved away, to Junn or Fulsk. Sammy wanted to move away, too. He knew how to pad
dle a boat but had never worked a sail, so he’d need to paddle the whole way to Junn. That would be hard, but he was getting stronger–and taller. He could do it. If he trapped enough coneys, sold both the meat and the hides, and didn’t share the money with Pop, maybe he could buy a boat.
As he gazed out at the dock and the waves, he saw two boats come into view from the west. They didn’t look like the boats that usually visited Dimmitt. These bore big sails, and a lot of men stood on board. As they came closer, he saw a man on the bow of the first boat wearing a black robe, two big white things dangling from a chain on his waist. That was odd. People on boats didn’t wear robes; they wore trousers and aprons for cutting up fish and stuff. And they didn’t hang white things on their belt.
Sammy sprinted from the docks and ducked behind the church, where he grabbed the rope to the bell tower and pulled it repeatedly. Gong! Gong! Gong!
“Boats!” he exclaimed as loudly as he could. “Big boats.”
At first, nobody paid him any mind, but after he kept ringing the bell, some kids gathered around the docks. Kids were always the first to greet new people. Sammy stopped ringing the bell and joined the others, waiting at the entrance to the main pier but not walking on the planks. That would be rude. You never walked on the docks when important people were arriving–you might get in their way. Not unless someone asked for help. Then you could go all the way up to the boats and help tie them off. Or carry things.
The boats were even bigger than Sammy thought. Each bore two masts, but they tucked the sails long before docking. There were soldiers on the boats, but there were others too. Men who sat on benches and rowed.
“Oars up!” someone yelled, and the oars on the first boat rose. Mr. Fedgewick and some others stepped onto the docks and headed to the first boat as it approached the docking bay reserved for visitors. There was a skiff tied up there, and Mr. Fedgewick untied it and moved it out of the way.
Finding Kai Page 5