Claws: Homeward VII

by Barb Hendee

  Homeward:

  Claws

  Barb Hendee

  Tales from the world of

  the Noble Dead Saga

  Copyright

  Barb and J.C. Hendee / NobleDead.org

  Copyright 2013 by Barb and J.C. Hendee.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Design, layout, and cover art by J.C. Hendee.

  ISBN-10: 0985561696

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9855616-9-7

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior contractual or written permission of the copyright owner(s) of this work.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons, living or deceased, businesses establishments, events, or locales is entirely incidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Claws

  Other Works The Noble Dead Saga

  Tales from the world of the Noble Dead Saga

  The Mist-Torn Witches Series

  The Vampire Memories Series

  Foreword

  No knowledge of the Noble Dead Saga or other related works by us are necessary to read, comprehend, and enjoy any work in the project known as “Tales from the world of the Noble Dead Saga.” Readers new to this world can step right into it through any of these short works.

  Tales are organized into “collections” where all works therein share a theme and/or premise. Most works in a collection are not sequential and can be read in any order. When one or more works link together, subsequent works will mention “sequel to…” on their covers to guide you.

  Tales can be your first adventure into our world or something to tide you over in the wait for the next of our varied novels to be released.

  —Barb & J.C. Hendee

  Claws

  Jan was restless.

  He stood on the outskirts of Chemestúk, watching his father, the zupan of the village, give orders to shabby, threadbare peasants working to rebuild their wattle and daub dwellings before autumn set in.

  Earlier in the summer, the village had been caught between two factions in a civil war and burned to the ground. Well over half its occupants had either been conscripted or killed. Now, the survivors were furiously attempting to prepare for autumn.

  “No,” Zupan Cadell called to two people on top a roof. “That thatch must be tighter or you’ll never keep out the rain.” He strode forward toward a rickety ladder leaning against the new hut. “I’m coming up.”

  Jan’s father was a barrel of a man in his late fifties with pale skin, fading freckles, and cropped red hair peppered with gray flecks. He always wore brown trousers and a brown shirt. His fingernails were forever stained dark, like his boots—as he was a hard-working man.

  Jan, in contrast, was not.

  Neither did he resemble his father, but rather had inherited his appearance from his mother’s side. At the age of twenty-five he was slender, with even features and coal-black hair that hung to his shoulders in a wild, unruly mass. His complexion was smooth and dusky. Unlike the drab clothing of the people of Chemestúk, he wore russet breeches with high boots and a new cerulean blue shirt with the cuffs rolled halfway up his arms—and he sported three silver hoops in one ear.

  He had dressed in a similar fashion for as long as he could remember.

  Yet, in the past few moons, on the inside, he’d felt himself somewhat... changed. Before, he had viewed himself as carefree, light-hearted, and someone who preferred to enjoy life as opposed to working hard.

  Recent events had forced him to take a hard look at himself and instead of “care-free,” the word “lazy” now came to mind. He didn’t like this change and would have given almost anything to go back to viewing himself as he had before.

  “Julianna!” his father called from above. “Are you there?”

  “I’m here, Zupan,” a voice called back.

  Jan’s gaze moved toward the direction of the voice. A slender, leggy young woman came around the side of the hut, and he continued to watch her. Her light brown hair hung loose down her back. Her pale face was narrow, with a light smattering of freckles across her nose. Normally, she wore brightly colored gowns like his mother, but today she wore a dress of gray wool. The skirt only reached her shins, and she was wearing a pair of boys’ breeches beneath. Even in such drab clothing, she was lovely. Once, she’d been a half-starved orphan, but Jan’s mother had taken her in, and Julianna had bloomed over the years. Now, Jan’s parents depended on her, as she was quite... capable.

  Again, unlike Jan.

  “What is it?” Julianna called up to the roof.

  “I need my good hammer,” Cadell answered. “Can you fetch it for me? I left it near that hut closest to the road.”

  “Yes, I’ll go and find it.”

  Julianna’s long body was like a coiled spring, and she broke easily into a run, hurrying toward the road. A few moments later, she came back, carrying the hammer. As she spotted Jan, she slowed and smiled hesitantly before hurrying on, and this only made him feel worse. For years, she had been the voice of his conscience, and only a few moons before, she would have stopped to berate him for not helping and probably shoved the hammer into his hand and shooed him up a ladder.

  Now... she treated him like an invalid, and he didn’t need to ask her why.

  A few days before the village had been burned, Jan—along with other men from Chemestúk—had been conscripted and pressed into a forced march. He’d seen men from this village beheaded for trying to escape. He’d seen things he wished he could erase from his mind. He’d done something he considered unforgivable in order to escape himself, and he’d returned here thin and ill. Both his mother and Julianna had taken care of him. Now, his body had filled out again, and he looked like his previous self.

  But he wasn’t his previous self, and Julianna seemed to sense this. At times, he wished she would berate him the way she used to.

  Upon reaching the hut where his father was working, Julianna scaled the ladder easily while carrying the hammer in one hand.

  “I wish I had a portion of her energy,” said a voice from behind him.

  Turning, Jan watched his mother, Nadja, approach from behind, her affectionate gaze still on Julianna. The two women were fond of each other.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “She and father could probably rebuild the entire village by themselves.”

  In her mid-forties, Jan’s mother was still beautiful, with shimmering black hair and a dusky smooth complexion. She was lithe and slender, though well figured in her cerulean dress—that matched his new shirt—tied in at the waist with a red paisley sash. She loved her jewelry, much of which had been gifted to her by her family. Often, as now, she wore a bracelet of ruddy metal that wound up her forearm in a mix of copper and brass. That adornment depicted a detailed engraving of twining birds with long tail plumes and flecks of green stone for eyes.

  However, lately... he had sensed a change in her as well, though different from himself. He wore his scars on the inside.

  Once, Nadja had been as quick and lively as Julianna. In recent days, her movements had begun to slow, and he’d occasionally noticed a shortness of breath if she walked too far. It worried him, but whenever he asked, she waved him off.

  “Your eyes look so far away,” she said, smiling. “What are you thinking?”

  In truth, for several days, his mind had been occ
upied with a thought that had nothing to do with Julianna or his mother or the village, but he’d hesitated to bring it up.

  “Do you really want to know?” he asked.

  He and his mother were open with each other—to the point of sometimes expressing when they didn’t wish to speak of serious matters.

  “I do.”

  Both of them turned back to watching Julianna and Cadell up on the roof, wrestling with the thatch.

  “Summer is over,” he said. “Soon, Aunt Doreena and Uncle Rosario will be rolling through to fetch us. I find that... I almost cannot wait. I wish they would come today.”

  Jan’s mother was of the Móndyalítko people, “the world’s little children,” though more often others called them tzigän—vagabond thieves. Since he was a boy, his mother had taken him to travel with her sister’s family for several moons in the autumn. In his youth, Jan had lived for those few scant moons.

  Later, once his father had become the vassal of Chemestúk, Nadja and Jan had been forced to skip several years—as they had responsibilities here. But for the past two autumns, they’d resumed their tradition, living in covered wagons and breathing in the freedom of the open road.

  This year... with the village in a shambles and everything that had happened, Jan’s greatest fear was the prospect of having to remain at home. A part of him was certain he might be able to recapture himself, his real self, if he was set free among his mother’s people again.

  Turning, his eyes searched her face, seeking an answer, but her expression was unreadable. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her pain or demand that she assure him they would be able to go, but he was desperate to know.

  “I know your aunt will be here soon,” Nadja whispered. “I know.”

  She said no more, and he couldn’t bring himself to press her.

  · · · · ·

  That evening at the keep, Julianna got back from a hard day’s work and headed upstairs to wash her hands and change out of the filthy clothes she was wearing—so that she could go downstairs and start supper.

  She was pleased with the progress of the village and believed they would have proper shelters in place for everyone well before winter set in. Yet... other worries preyed upon her mind. She’d been so happy to see Jan standing on the edge of the village, watching, and she’d hoped he would come in and offer to help.

  He had not.

  Then—as he loved to tease her—she hoped he might at least come and tease her for trying to lay thatch like a man.

  He had not.

  Something inside him had changed since he’d returned from being conscripted, and nothing she did seemed to help. All she could do was hope that a little time and a little peace might bring the old Jan back, as this new one was a stranger.

  Stepping off the landing, she strode down the passage toward her room, and then slowed as another door opened and Nadja stuck her head out.

  “My girl,” she said. “I thought I heard you.”

  Julianna never minded that Nadja called her “my girl,” even though she was twenty years old and hardly a girl anymore. She adored Nadja and secretly hungered for these small words of affection.

  “Do you need me?” Julianna asked.

  “Yes, come in.”

  Entering the room, Julianna glanced around at the bedroom that Nadja and Cadell shared. It was a pleasant mix of them both, with painted hangings on the walls and piles of bracelets and Cadell’s muddy boots and well-worn tools scattered around.

  “I have something for you,” Nadja said, motioning toward the bed.

  Julianna looked over and drew in a sharp breath. There... on the bed lay a new dress, the color of rich scarlet. She loved red dresses, and owned only one—which had come to her second-hand with threadbare seams.

  “Oh,” she breathed moving closer to the bed. “How long have you been working on this?”

  The dress laced up the front with a v-neckline. The sleeves were long and slender and hemmed without cuffs. The waistline was cut perfectly for Julianna’s slight figure and the skirt was full, but not so full as to be cumbersome. A purple paisley sash lay beside it.

  “I wanted to surprise you,” Nadja said, and something her voice sounded pained.

  Forgetting the dress, Julianna turned. “What’s wrong?”

  Nadja didn’t answer or take her eyes from the gown. “This isn’t a bribe. It is a gift, with my love, but I’m going to ask you something, and I beg that you will not refuse.”

  “You know I’d do anything for you. You need not make me such gifts.”

  “This is different,” Nadja said, and the pain in her voice increased. “Listen to me carefully.”

  As she began to speak, Julianna’s eyes grew wide...

  · · · · ·

  Jan stood in the main hall of the keep, facing the fire, knowing his parents and Julianna would join him soon, and they would all have dinner together. He liked their custom of gathering each night for dinner, no matter what else was going on. It helped him feel... grounded.

  “Jan,” a voice said from behind.

  For the second time that day, he turned to see his mother approaching.

  “Does Julianna need me to help her carry dinner from the kitchen?” he asked. Normally, if she made a soup or stew, he would carry it and she would bring the bread.

  “In a moment,” Nadja answered quietly. “I want to talk to you.” Her expression was serious, almost strained.

  He crossed the floor of the hall so that she wouldn’t need to.

  “About what?” He feared she was on the verge of giving him news he didn’t want to hear.

  “As you said earlier,” she began, “your Aunt Doreena will be arriving any day now.”

  “And we’re not going with her?” he whispered, already sinking into despair, but fighting not to show it.

  “No... I know you need to go. I know how the road and life with my people call to you.”

  He froze, uncertain what to say, uncertain what she was about to say.

  “I cannot... cannot go with you this year,” she continued. “I need to stay and help your father with the villagers. But in my heart, I am afraid to send you alone without a solid piece of home to guide you back.” She paused. “Julianna has agreed to go with you.”

  “Julianna? But she... she knows nothing of the Móndyalítko.”

  “She will learn.”

  “And how do you think she will respond to my cousin, Rico?”

  “She is a sensible girl who understands there is more in this world than most people realize. She will respond just fine to your cousin, Rico.”

  A part of him was overjoyed that he would soon be rolling down the road in the company of his extended family, but he was still attempting to get his head around the idea of Julianna having agreed to this. He was also surprised at the excitement growing inside him at the prospect of her company all through the autumn. There was so much he could show her.

  However, did his mother truly fear that he might not return and that Julianna would act as his anchor? That bothered him more than he cared to admit.

  Besides, Julianna handled a good deal of the household by now.

  “Don’t you need her here?” he asked.

  Nadja sighed. “Just the thought of you both being gone at the same time pains me, but my decision is not just for you. She has seen nothing outside this village and knows little beyond life with your father and me. I want more for her. Will you take her, Jan? Keep her safe at your side and show her more of the world? Then... before winter, you will both come home to me? Do you agree?”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation. “Of course I agree.”

  Already, he felt a little more like his previous self.

  · · · · ·

  Three days later, Julianna became nearly sick from nerves as she stepped out the main doors of the keep and saw three brightly colored wagons rolling into the courtyard, each one drawn by a pair of enormous horses. The wagons were topped with what appeared
to be small houses. Julianna had seen them before—as Nadja’s family stopped by each year—but she’d never had a reason to ponder such strange dwellings.

  Last year, and the year before that, Nadja and Jan had both journeyed off when the wagons departed, and Julianna had remained behind with Zupan Cadell. This year, the outcome of the Móndyalítko visit would be quite different, as Julianna would be leaving with them.

  The thought caused her stomach to tighten.

  The wagons stopped, and almost instantly a surprising number of people emerged from small doorways or jumped down from the tops of the makeshift dwellings, bustling about, chattering to each other, and unharnessing the horses.

  “Doreena!” a voice cried.

  Nadja burst through the keep’s doors, her face beaming with a smile as she attempted to hurry forward. Of late, her knees had been troubling her, and she could no longer run.

  “Come, Julianna,” she said, still walking across the courtyard and not looking back, “My sister is here. I knew she would come today. I felt it as soon as I woke up.”

  Julianna remained rooted where she stood.

  After having made the mistake of letting Nadja dress her this morning, she didn’t feel like herself. Had Nadja really known her sister would be arriving? This new red dress was so... red. Julianna also wore the purple sash around her waist and three bracelets dangling from her left wrist. What if she looked so much like one of the Móndyalítko, they would expect her to know their customs and ways?

  Yes, she’d agreed to this journey, but now that the prospect was upon her, how was she ever going to climb into one of those wagons and leave Chemestúk behind?

  The answer came to her as Jan nearly ran out the front doors of the keep and stopped at the sight of her.

  “Oh... Julianna, you look so... you look...”

  This was the first time he’d seen her today.

  Jan had an almost unbelievable ability to flatter women and make them fall in love with him—or he’d had this ability not too long ago. Him being so uncharacteristically tongue-tied shored up her determination to accompany him, to help him... as Nadja had asked her to do.