by David Hodges
He flipped through the pages. “There was something in here about fallen angels and Athraithe with wings, just like Cameron eh, let me find it.” As he was turning the pages, Hazel noticed an illustration of a pair of women hunched over a large cauldron, dropping bones into it. The disemboweled carcass of a cat was next to them. In the background, there was a silhouette of a horned demon.
“Wait, go back, there... are those witches?” Hazel asked as she pointed to the image.
“Oh yeah, I was gonna tell you about that next. Witchcraft, spellcraft, sorcery, magic... whatever you want to call it, it’s all inspired by Bheochan. The depiction of witchcraft that formed in medieval times is a twisted interpretation of curing. Athraithe don’t slaughter animals for the sole purpose of curing, they only use animals that have already died. The horned demons, most likely spawned out of some unassuming bloke with a goat Cineál.”
Fergus flipped ahead. “There’s more about Bheochan and Fuil, ah, here.” He showed Hazel a sketch of a man biting into a woman’s wrist, her blood dripping into a bowl. “Lore of vampires sprung up in the Balkans... the idea of a being that survives on the life force of living creatures is also suspected to have derived from Bheochan. There’s a preoccupation with blood, apparently curing requires the blood of an Athraithe, just a couple of drops though.
Fergus sighed, “In most of these cases, the Athraithe inspired tales of fearsome creatures. They were hunted for it...” He shook his head as he looked down at an image of a woman being burned alive. “All these tales came from truth, but it was truth that was poorly understood. It’s no wonder they chose to hide here.”
“This is all starting to make some sense,” Hazel remarked. “Do me a favor, Fergus, don’t show this to Cameron.”
Fergus said, “Aye. Enough of the depressing topics, there’s a whole section on sea.”
A voice behind them said, “Hazel.”
Hazel turned and saw Elisedd. He smiled. “Good afternoon, you look well. I told you you’d be alright, didn’t I?”
“You did, thank you. It was very kind of you to comfort me.”
Fergus looked at Elisedd suspiciously.
“It was nothing,” Elisedd replied as he walked to Fergus and extended a hand. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Elisedd.”
Fergus shook his hand, “Fergus.”
Hazel said, “This is my cousin Daniel sleeping here.” She shook his shoulder.
He stirred and saw Elisedd then got up quickly to introduce himself. “Sorry... Daniel, nice to meet you.”
Hazel said, “That’s my brother, Cameron, over by the window. I’m not sure he’s in the mood for introductions.”
Elisedd said, “It’s understandable. It’s not easy feeling so out of place. Worse yet to be kept from a loved one.” He sounded as if he spoke from experience. He drifted out of his thought and said, “Anyway, I actually came here to show you to your rooms.”
“We’re not staying in the manor?
“No, there are some flats not far from here, you’ll all be in the same building. C’mon, I’ll take you there now.”
Elisedd led them to a large building within walking distance of the library. Hazel recognized the Tudor, timber frame design. It had steep pitched roofing and visible beams filled with white composite. It was a dated style in Leicester, but in Talamh, it seemed modern.
When they went inside, Hazel was surprised to find that the interior was of a much higher quality than the modest exterior suggested. There was extensive brickwork throughout, and the floors were all hardwood.
First, Elisedd showed Cameron to a simple square room with a view of the street and a hearth. Just down the hall, he dropped Daniel and Fergus off in a larger suite with a pair of beds. Finally, he took Hazel to her room at the end of the hall. It was a corner room with an excellent view of the village center. “Saved the best for last,” he winked.
“It’s perfect,” Hazel said. She noticed her things had already been brought to the room. “Do you know why they moved us here?”
“I reckon it’s more convenient for your training, bit more lively here as well. More importantly, it’s safer within the walls.”
A woman’s voice in the hall said, “Wouldn’t be so sure about that.” She had stopped outside the door carrying a mop and bucket. “I hear that man, Einar, isn’t working alone. I hear he’s got sympathizers right here in Talamh.” She continued down the hall.
“Why would anyone sympathize with Einar? What good would a murderous, kidnapping, thief bring to the village?” asked Hazel.
Elisedd scratched his head and shrugged. “I dunno, I guess… some are saying there’s more to Einar’s story than the Laochra are letting on.”
“How do you mean?”
Elisedd stepped closer to Hazel and spoke in a hushed voice. “Anyone who knew Einar knows that he loved his wife. It just seems strange that he would snap like that, but I suppose it happens. As for the Sphere, some are saying he’s protecting it.”
“From who?”
Elisedd shrugged. “Careful who you say these things to. You’d be calling the Laochra liars. Besides, could be that his supporters, if he has any, are just planting these notions. I wouldn’t mind the maid’s theories. You know what they say about rumors.”
15
CAMERON
Cameron followed Faron toward a set of circular clearings in the trees. Several of the clearings were occupied by men and women who were sparring. The rings formed a large arc, and at the base there was a square, stone building. In front of the building, a young woman was waiting. As they arrived, Cameron recognized her as the same stunning girl who had removed his blindfold when he was first brought into the village.
“Good afternoon, Alviva,” said Faron, “this is Cameron. I don’t believe you’ve been properly introduced.”
“No, we haven’t,” she smiled and extended her hand, “glad to meet you.”
He shook her hand. Faron said, “Alviva’s Cineál is also Éan, and like most of you, she’s an archer. She can teach you a lot.”
“I’m experienced with a bow,” said Cameron.
“Not like her. You’ll need her guidance if you want any chance of surviving should Einar come knocking.” He looked to Alviva. “I’ll leave you to it.” Faron left them alone.
Alviva said, “Come with me. I’ll show you the armory.”
Like the building that housed the Spheres, the armory had no windows, and a pair of guards was inside. The range of weapons on the walls struck Cameron. Swords of all different shapes and sizes, as well as axes, shields, and spears. One of the walls was hung exclusively with bows.
Alviva said, “Laochra are permitted to keep their own weapons and armor, but any equipment commissioned by Talamh is kept here.”
“Laochra?”
“Aye... the village guard.”
Cameron nodded. “Some of these weapons look like they belong in a museum.”
“Most of them could be, their condition might not suggest it, but they’re truly ancient.”
Cameron realized there were no firearms to be seen. “You don’t have any guns?”
Alviva replied, “No. Any of our archers can shoot arrows faster and more accurately than a musket or pistol in the best hands.”
Cameron doubted that.
Alviva picked up a bow and quiver and brought them over to him. “I was told these belong to you.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“There’s something else for you, a gift from your uncle.”
Cameron felt uneasy at the familial label. She led him to a long, leather wrapped box on a table and opened it. Inside, there was a thick bow made of dark wood with three matching arrows. Cameron could see thick, glistening veins running over the bow as well as the arrows. “It’s cured?” said Cameron.
“Yes, by a legendary Bheochantóir. It’s called Ionga. It’s one of the oldest weapons here. It was made in a time when Athraithe were more liberal with their use of the Spheres. It took an enormous
amount of Fuil to cure it. There are Éan who would do just about anything to own Ionga.”
“It looks too short to be of any practical use.”
“You aren’t familiar with recurve bows are you? Why don’t you go ahead and string it.”
Cameron carefully removed the bow from its case. He stood the bow up and braced the bottom of it with his feet while he pushed down on the top to bring the string to the groove at the tip. He was shocked out how little the bow bent. He repositioned the top of the bow closer to his body to get a stronger hold on it. He grunted as he pushed against it with all his might until he was able to loop the string around the groove. He looked up at Alviva who was smiling at him. “I think I pulled a muscle,” he said as he massaged his chest.
“The bow has a deceptively high draw weight. I can guarantee it fires farther than your yew longbow.”
“What exactly is it made of?”
“A mixture of wood and sinew, it’s the sinew that makes it exceptional, it’s got many layers stacked and glued on the face and the tips. The arrows are reinforced in a similar fashion.”
“Excellent, let’s shoot it.”
Alviva held her hand out for the bow and said, “There are a few things we should go over first.”
“Oh, c’mon, I’m a bowyer and a fletcher, there’s nothing you can...”
She snatched the bow out of his hand and unstrung it with a deft movement.
Cameron sighed. “Alright then...”
She placed the bow back in its case and grabbed a thinner recurve bow from a rack, along with a strapless quiver of arrows. She clipped the quiver to her waist and led Cameron outside to the back of the armory.
There was a long, narrow clearing in the trees. A few larger trees remained, but aside from those, there were only targets scattered throughout, as far as Cameron was able to see. The closest targets were a row of three bales of hay backed by wood frames. A bit farther in the distance, similar targets were scattered more irregularly at varying distances.
“Go ahead and string your longbow. Put an arrow in that center target when your ready,” said Alviva.
While Cameron readied his bow, Alviva did the same with hers. When he was ready, he pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked an arrow. It was an easy shot, not more than fifteen yards. He loosed the arrow and hit just left of the center.
“Good.” She loosed her own arrow at a farther target. It looked to be close to eighty yards away. The arrow struck dead center. “Hit that target.”
Cameron concentrated. He knew he was capable of hitting a target at that range, but not without some luck. He lifted his bow and loosed an arrow. He watched as it clipped the bottom left corner of the target.
“Not bad,” said Alviva. She lifted her bow at a steep angle. Her pupils enlarged and yellow irises enveloped most of her eyes. A cluster of feathers, the same orange colors as the fall leaves, sprouted on the back of her neck. They rustled gently in the breeze. She moved the bow to the right in a quick movement and let an arrow off. Cameron lost sight of it.
Alviva moved close to Cameron and pointed out in front of him. She had a sweet scent in her hair. “Focus on that target.”
Cameron could hardly see it. He squinted, then felt a strange, scratchy sensation on his eyes. They watered and his vision cleared. He could see every detail of the target. The arrow was embedded just low and to the right of the center. He looked to Alviva and felt the same sensation in his eyes again as she came into focus. “How far is that target?”
“Two hundred yards.”
Cameron was astounded. It seemed an impossible shot.
“Wind has a profound effect at this distance, even with such a gentle breeze as this. Do your best to feel the wind, and focus on the target like you just did. Go ahead, take a shot.”
Cameron did as she said, and after his eyes changed, he was once again able to make out the distant target. He felt the breeze coming from behind him and toward his left. He aimed slightly to the right, then took a shot. He watched the arrow sail over the target, far off to the left. He sighed in frustration. “I know which way the wind is blowing, but how am I supposed to...”
He stopped when Alviva walked up to him and began unbuttoning his vest. “This might give you a better feel for it.”
Cameron blushed as she took it off.
She said, “It’s not guesswork, it’s instinct. Try again.”
Cameron took aim and concentrated on the cool air passing over him. He felt a chill go up his back toward his neck as if he was getting goose bumps. His neck became sensitive to the subtle fluctuations in the breeze. He let the sensations guide his aim and released an arrow. He watched the arrow sink into the ground just shy of the target.
“Excellent!” she exclaimed.
“I missed.”
“That’s a tough shot, I was just trying to prove a point, didn’t actually expect you to get anywhere close.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“There’s really not much more for me to tell you about long range shooting... just keep practicing shots like that, and you’ll be as good as any ranged archer we have.”
Cameron reached back behind his neck and felt a tuft of feathers there. He felt nervous for a moment before they faded away until his skin was smooth again. “Told you I know how to shoot.”
“Not so fast.” She drew an arrow and looked back at him with a hint of mischief. “I said you were good at range.” She pulled out three arrows, and drew one as she held the other two in the same hand. In no more than two seconds she unleashed all three arrows into the three targets in front of them. Each shot hit dead center.
Cameron could see why guns would be futile against an archer as skilled as her.
She walked back toward him and said, “You’ll be hard pressed to do that the way you draw your arrows. Let’s start with the basics.” She took Cameron’s quiver off his back and removed the one from her hip before handing it to him. “If you’re ever shooting an arrow when speed matters, which is always the case in a practical situation, you shouldn’t have to reach far, and you should have more than one ready to shoot.”
She pulled three arrows from the quiver and showed him how her thumb gripped two of them vertically to her palm while the third was between her fingers, ready to be drawn. “You might have more than one enemy, or you might miss, the first thing you need to get used to is drawing an arrow while holding another in the same hand.” She handed him her bow and the three arrows.
He clumsily mimicked the grip she showed him.
“Next, you need to stop reaching around your bow and fumbling with your grip every time you take a shot. Just bring it to the same side you’re drawing with.” She held his right wrist and brought it up directly to the right side of the bow. “That’s it, you’re ready to shoot, and when you’ve loosed the first, all you’ll have to do is nock one of the others that’s already in your hand. Try it.”
Cameron struggled to keep the arrow steady as he drew it, then shot it wide of the closest target. He looked to Alviva skeptically.
“It’ll take some getting used to, but when you’re comfortable with it you’ll be much faster. Just keep practicing.”
Cameron continued nocking and drawing arrows awkwardly, dropping more than one on the ground. He fired all of the arrows in the quiver. He did not feel completely incompetent by the time they were empty.
“That’s good for now. There’s one more thing I’d like you to try.”
Cameron’s back and arm was already tired, but he was curious what else there could have been.
Alviva looked up over the forest where a bird with a long v-shaped tail was gliding high in the sky. She put on a heavy leather glove. The hawk soared down toward them and landed on Alviva’s outstretched arm. It had orange feathers and a white head with a stout beak. It was looking Cameron up and down with jerky flicks of its head.
“She’s a red kite,” said Alviva.
Cameron recognized the name, though he had never seen
one before. They were considered pests from what he knew. The label did not do the animal justice; she was beautiful.
Alviva said, “She’ll be helping us with our next drill.” The kite flew toward a branch where wooden blocks were hanging. With her talons, she grasped a handle attached to one of them and flew into the air with it. “She’s going to drop that block. I want you to try to hit it.”
Cameron scoffed. “You’re joking?”
Alviva shook her head and glanced at the hawk.
Of course she was not.
Cameron drew an arrow the way she had shown him, then waited as the bird flew across the range until it released the block. He loosed the arrow and it flew by the block.
“You need to think about where that block will be when your arrow reaches it.”
Cameron continued firing at the blocks. He kept her advice in mind but did not seem to be making any progress. By the time his quiver was empty, he had failed to hit a single block. “I think that’s all I’ve got in me,” he said, defeated.
“That’s okay, we’ll keep practicing, this was a good start. Before we go, Einar wanted me to help you with your changing. You’ve already had some practice with your vision and the wind, but from I’ve heard you’re capable of much more than that.”
“I have no interest in changing.”
“I was told you’d be stubborn about it, but at least let me see if I can change your mind.” She led Cameron toward a large tree at the edge of the range. There was a rope ladder hanging down from a wooden platform built high in the branches. They climbed up to the platform and looked over the edge. They were facing down the range. “Faron told me your wings were the largest he’d ever seen... you’ll be a good glider.”
Cameron did not take pride in the comment the way she seemed to expect, but he could not deny that the thought of floating through the air was intriguing. “What exactly do you mean by gliding?”