Storms Over Open Fields

by G. Howell

  “Ah, your sword. That… I’m no expert, but I don’t think it is standard farm equipment. And you seem to know more about her highness and the palace than I’d expect of a farmer way out here. And as for farming… I’m sorry, but I saw you trying to split those logs. You need a bit more practice. Oh, and Rothi said you’d learned to make these,” I gestured with the remnants of my pie, “in the West.”

  Those eyes watched me again.

  “Or…” I quickly added, “I’m probably completely wrong. And why should it be any of my business anyway?”

  Ea’rest snorted, then actually chittered, “You are a peculiarity, aren’t you. No, you’re right: This is a change for me.”

  “There was a reason?”

  Again she regarded me, then cocked her head as if coming to a decision. “A. I was military, if you must know. Open Fields guard, attached to the palace. There were times while standing post in the pouring rain and mud, or tracking murderous bandits through freezing snow, or when you’re trying to keep a sword from your gut that the life of a farmer looked very appealing.”

  “Nice and boring,” I suggested.

  “A,” she smiled slightly, seeing something in her own head. “I was brought up around here. I thought it would be a good place to settle.” She sighed again and scratched an ear, looking around the yard. “I think perhaps it had more appeal from the other side. From here it, after a while, it seems so…small. Waking and fighting the land and the animals and sleeping and then doing it over again.”

  “Perhaps, you could try your hand at something else,” I suggested.

  She snorted. I couldn’t tell if that was disgust or something else. “I’ve been a soldier all my life. I can fight, that’s about it.”

  I waved my hand in a shrug and offered, “You can cook. Very well.”

  Another snort. “There was time for that in the barracks at least. So perhaps I can become a cook for some high born milk cub.”

  “Ma’am, you can cook very well. Believe me: I think my sense of taste is better than a Rris’. You don’t have to work for someone else. Run your own business. Sell food.”

  She blinked. “Sell food? Is being a butcher or a fishmonger such a step up?”

  I took another mouthful, my chains rattling as I moved my arm, and chewed thoughtfully. “Doesn’t have to be that. Something like an... innkeeper? Meet people, travelers.” I shrugged and added, “Could be more than just an innkeeper.”

  “A?” her expression was dubious but also curious.

  “Depends what you do,” I elaborated. It felt a little like back home, walking a client through a proposed campaign. Sell them the ideas, but try to make them think the ideas are theirs. “Offer service others don’t. Good accommodation. Fast, clean and good food. Friendly service. Make sure people know about it. If people don’t know about something, they can’t buy it now, can they?”

  “A? How?”

  “Any way you can,” I said, starting to think back to old skills I hadn’t used for some time. “Use imagination. Attract peoples’ attention. Criers, bills and placards, posters. Give your business an identity, a feel or a look that people can recognize. As your business grows, you can expand to other areas, other towns that use that same look. When people travel they’ll see a familiar establishment where they can get familiar service, food. If the service is popular enough, you could charge individuals for the right to run a branch office. I think you…”

  The farmer was staring at me, her jaw hanging open a bit and her expression most peculiar. I realized I’d been going off a little strong. “I think it could be quite successful,” I finished a little lamely.

  There was a little chuff of air from her, a nervous chitter. “You sound as if you’ve thought about it,” she said eventually.

  “I apologize,” I said. “I didn’t mean to be so… they are new ideas.”

  “A,” she said, her ears still flagging uncertainty. “Surprisingly so. Where did you learn of them?”

  “I had experience with people who worked with such,” I said.

  “Huhn,” she gave a thoughtful rumble. “You never did say exactly where you came from.”

  “No.” I couldn’t deny that.

  “You’ve lied to me?”

  “No! Ma’am…Ea’rest, no. I haven’t lied.”

  “Then why won’t you say?”

  I sighed. “There are things I haven’t told you because… quite frankly they would just lead you to more questions.”

  “Like your scars? Or are they just things you don’t think I should know?”

  “I… I’m sorry, but someone is pursuing me and I have to say I honestly haven’t got the faintest idea why. It might… it might be because of what I am or because of information I possess, I don’t know. But the more I tell you, the more likely you could be implicated. I don’t want that.”

  She looked uncertain.

  “Please,” I tried again, “I’ve involved people who didn’t deserve what happened to them before. I don’t want to do that again.” I looked down at the iron manacles around my wrist, horribly aware of how flimsy my reassurances must seem. I’d come into her life as an obvious fugitive, admitting I was running from what might have been the law.

  “I’m not lying to you,” I said and then hesitated, looking out at the bright world. “But I can’t prove it. I can’t prove any of it. And I can’t ask you to trust me, I know that. After all, I’m… you’re Rris and I’m… not.”

  “Huhn,” her muzzle turned to also gaze out over the farmyard, at the sun-drenched hillside and the lonely little rutted track wending down to the trees. Then she snorted. “The most unbelievable thing about your story is that I believe it.”

  “You do?”

  “I think if you were lying you could have come up with a story that was less… incredible,” she smiled a little, still not looking at me. Meadowlarks swooped and dove over the fields, chasing the insects swirling in the shimmers of the afternoon heat. After a while she added, “And I don’t think a desperate criminal would be so considerate as to offer to work for food when he’s got the opportunity to just take it. Still, an odd story from such an odd guest is fitting.”

  I smiled carefully and she stared away down the hillside for a bit longer before saying, “You’ll be bound for Open Fields now?”

  “A.”

  “How?”

  I didn’t know. Walking, I supposed.

  “And you know the way?” she asked.

  I had a vague idea.

  She closed her eyes and I saw rather than heard her jaw spasm as she chattered quietly. “South,” she echoed. “Just, ‘south’. Bald one, on foot that’s three days at best; if you know the way. And there are bears, wolves and bandits and worse. I wouldn’t want to do it alone and unarmed, let alone naked and shackled.”

  I waved affirmative. “I have… little choice.”

  She rumbled thoughtfully again. “Perhaps… Look, if you are willing to finish what you started today; to do a bit more work, I can offer you another meal and a roof for tonight and …possibly another choice.”

  ------v------

  Throughout that hot afternoon I dug more holes and drove more stakes. It was a pretty mindless job that I just methodically worked my way through. Following the zig-zag of stones that Ea’rest had laid down the field, digging a hole and then driving a post, one after another. It gave me time to think, to try and figure out just where the hell I was going next. Open Fields. I knew that. I was also realizing that the individuals after me would know that, after all there weren’t many other choices. So, I had to try and formulate some sort of plan. I almost felt disappointed when I drove a stake and found I’d reached the end of the line. But there was still wood to chop; quite a pile of it.

  Ea’rest had looked a little uneasy as she unwrap
ped an axe from an oilcloth. It was obviously a valuable possession, but I couldn’t help wondering if she was concerned for the safety of the tool or by the fact she was giving a sharp implement to me. Whatever, she handed it over. I looked it over: it was pretty old and worn, but well honed. And like the one I’d used a long time ago in Westwater it was built for Rris, so it felt a little lightweight for me. I assured her I knew how to use it. She showed me the whetstone and then she left me to it, although not without a few glances over her shoulder.

  The wood wasn’t in convenient rounds neatly trimmed by saw; it was just a pile of logs and branches that’d been picked up, dragged or cut by axe but weren’t any size that could be put into a stove or fireplace. Some of them I were able to break into manageable lengths, others I had to axe. That was frustrating work; the chains of my shackles got in the way and the movement aggravated already chafed skin. What’s more I knew a chainsaw or even just a good ripsaw would be able to go through the firewood like butter, but of course there wasn’t anything like that available so I had to do it the hard way.

  So I chopped and cut and snapped wood while the day went on. The axe was sharp and effective at splitting the soft woods and the clean pine, but the knottier pieces and hardwoods were tough going. I kept at it, sweating furiously and knocking water back by the liter. Working away at the daunting pile of raw timber and carting armloads of cut firewood across to the house to stack under the eaves. The dusty ground covered with chips and splinters, the hot air filled with the smells of the wood: pine and oak and cedar.

  About five o’clock, by my inexpert judging of the sun. I was carrying a double armload of wood back to the house and rounded the corner to find myself face to face with shaggy mountains of hair: a team of bison. Behind them… I looked past them to the wagon they were drawing and the shocked Rris sitting on the board there and I stopped on the spot.

  They’d found me, that was the first thought that hit me like punch in the guts. But the Rris wasn’t dressed like a Mediator, and was alone. That was the next thing I noticed, at about the same moment the Rris snatched and brought up a crossbow and for the second time in my life I was staring at a wavering loaded crossbow with a dangerously frightened Rris face behind it.

  I froze, absolutely motionless with the armload of wood stacked up to my chin. My body remembered the results of last time in a twitching through the knot in my shoulder. I swallowed hard and said, in a voice that came out remarkably calmly, “Please, don’t. I’m not dangerous.”

  It was the Rris’s turn to freeze. “What?” He squeaked after a few seconds.

  “I said, please don’t shoot me. I’m not dangerous,” I repeated. I could feel my heart hammering.

  Those eyes widened, then narrowed and the head tipped but the bow didn’t waver. “You…What the mange are you!? What are you doing?”

  “My name is Michael. I’m getting firewood.”

  There was a flash of fangs and he shook his head like a fly had buzzed into his ear: a sign of annoyance. “Where’s Ea’rest?! Rothi?! What’ve you done…”

  “Uh, excuse me,” I ventured and he cut off in mid tirade, glaring. It was better than shooting. “Ea’rest is in the back field,” I said. “And Rothi… is there.”

  Rothi had rounded the other side of the farmhouse and stopped. I saw him take in the tableau and his ears go flat. “Heksi!” he yelped, scampering forward. “Don’t!”

  “Rothi?” The newcomer blinked and the end of the crossbow swayed aside a bit, then came back. I stayed motionless. “Are you all right? Ea’rest? Where is she?”

  “She was up back,” the cub said, jerking a thumb that way. “I saw you come and told her. She’s coming. Why’re you pointing that at Mikah?”

  “Mikah?” There was confusion now. “You mean this…”

  “Heksi!” A voice yowled from behind me and second later Ea’rest belted up alongside, panting heavily. “Heksi, no! Shave you! Put that down! He’s not dangerous.”

  “Not…” The tip of the crossbow and the quarrel nestled in the groove drooped along with the ears. “What is that thing?”

  “This thing,” Ea’rest actually laid a hand on my bare shoulder, which twitched involuntarily at the contact, “is Mikah. He was helping with some jobs around the place. I wish I could have given you some more warning, but he seems docile enough.”

  Heksi snorted something but lowered the bow, regarded me for a bit and then laid the bow aside. A male, I saw when he hopped down. The visitor Ea’rest had been expecting, was he a suitor? He looked young, or younger than her. Stocky, well built - as was she - with tan and grey fur, peppered with white and black. A basic and well-worn leather satchel decorated with blue and yellow beads was slung over a shoulder and a simple front and back panel kilt was wrapped around his waist. He favored me with a calculating stare before going to lead the bison off to the water trough. Ea’rest’s hand was still on my shoulder and she was also looking at me. “You’re shaking,” she said, almost incredulously.

  I shrugged her off and went to finish what I’d started out to do. The wood fell onto the stack with a clatter and I rubbed my arms. I’d been holding the logs for long enough that the bark had left webs of red marks across my skin. It took a minute or so to stack them away neatly.

  Ea’rest was in conversation with Heksi. Rothi scurried up with his kite, excitedly jumping up and down and interrupting. Heksi crouched to ruffle his cheek tufts and then examined the toy with him, turning it over in his furry digits. Ea’rest was chittering amusement. It looked as if they were enjoying themselves. When I headed back across the yard Heksi glanced up and his ears went back, then laid flat. Without the stack of timber in my arms the black shackles were clearly visible and it was those his eyes were locked on. “Ea’rest,” he said quietly. “It’s in chains.”

  “I know,” she said and her ears flicked back. “Actually, I was thinking you might be able to help with that. You’ve got tools… you can get them off?”

  I blinked. I’d never expected that and apparently, neither had he. He looked at her as if she’d gone mad. “What? Rot you, Ea’rest. You aided it and now you’re looking for an accomplice?! I mean, if it’s in chains then it’s probably dangerous. Who’d it escape from? A menagerie?”

  “He said they looked like Mediators,” Ea’rest said.

  Heksi’s jaws gaped like a goldfish and when he turned back to me his expression … it was horror. “Mediators?” It came out as a squeak and spun back to her, his hands spread. “You want to get Mediators nipping at our tails?!”

  “Please,” I ventured and they both looked at me, “Ea’rest, I don’t mean to cause problems for you. I should just leave now.”

  “No,” she said and her tail lashed. “Mikah, I said I would offer you recompense for your work. I may not have much, but I will honor my word.”

  I hesitated. I had a feeling that she was trying to stall me for some reason. Why? Had she called the authorities? How? If she had, why had this Heksi shown up instead of a contingent of armed Mediators? And she’d already had more than enough chances to harm me. So unless she was trying to lull me and turn me over utterly unharmed and unsuspecting… I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. For now there was a chance of some help.

  I nodded. “There’s still plenty to do,” I said and went back to work.

  “Heksi,” Ea’rest said behind me, “we need to talk.”

  ------v------

  The setting sun painted the sky in extravagant colors. Along the distant sunward horizon columns of clouds tumbled and clambered over one another, towering against the darkening sky. Final touches of golden sunlight haloed them in gold while shafts of brilliant light streamed through errant cracks in the stacks. To the east, the sky was clear and dark. An errant wisp of high Cirrostratus caught in a final sunbeam glowed with an intensity that made it seem out of place in the empty d
arkness. Far below, across the face of the world, shadows in the valleys and beneath the trees crawled and lengthened and merged. On the northern slopes of the hill, where Ea’rest’s little homestead was perched, the fields colored amber, then red, faded to dull flat light as the last of the sun subsided over the horizon.

  I lowered the axe head to the chopping block and leaned on the haft. The wood pile was greatly diminished, but there was still a bit more to go Unfortunately there wasn’t much daylight left. It wasn’t dark yet, just a grayish twilight, but that wasn’t going to last long. I could feel trickles of perspiration - cooling in the evening air - tracing chilling little tickles down my skin, leaving pale little tracks through the grime on my skin as they went..

  “Enough, I think,” a Rris said.

  I looked around at Ea’rest. She was standing behind me regarding the remnants of the wood pile. When she looked at me her ears flicked back, just momentarily. “That’s… impressive work.”

  “Thank you,” I said wearily.

  “You’ve earned that meal, I think,” Ea’rest said and was quiet for a few seconds. Her tail lashed, the tufted tip sweeping the ground.

  “I’ve talked with Heksi,” she eventually said. “He’s calmed down. I think you were a bit of a shock to him.”

  “Ah. That’s not too surprising,” I said.

  “It happens a lot?”

  I shrugged, humanly: an automatic gesture she wouldn’t understand. “Your reaction and his are not… uncommon. I can’t imagine why.”

  “Huhn,” her ears tipped back and she wrapped arms around herself, hooking a hand over each shoulder.

  “But your willingness to give me a chance, that is,” I added. “The last time something like this happened, I got this,” I touched the knot of scar tissue on my shoulder. “By comparison, your’s was quite a warm welcome.”